


The Star and The Hourglass

by SilverGlass83



Category: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Divergent Timelines, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fantasy, Headcanon, Magic, Redemption, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2019-09-15 21:51:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 47
Words: 282,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16941390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverGlass83/pseuds/SilverGlass83
Summary: The Test of High Sorcery changes every magic user who takes it.Yurielle is no exception to this rule.She went into her Test thinking that she'd continue to wear the white robes of good. But instead, she walked out wearing the black robes of evil.Yurielle herself wasn't evil or cruel, but for some reason that she could not fathom, the gods of magic had wanted her to walk in darkness.After her Test, life continued on as she tried to come to terms with her new path. Then one day, Yurielle first laid eyes upon the infamous archmage Raistlin Majere. The encounter of their meeting would forever prove to be the moment in time, more so than her Test had been, that changed her life forever.And his.





	1. Yurielle

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that I do not own any of the characters or settings within this Dragonlance universe that belong to Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman. This is a fan fiction only, I do not make any profit from my story telling. I do however, consider Yurielle and any other original character my own.  
> This is a work already well underway. I honestly have no idea where this is going to end up or who may all appear. So please enjoy the journey with me!  
> *Note I have decided to label it as explicit but this is a VERY slow burn story. It will take some time to get to the sexy bits and I will label the chapters accordingly. But I changed the rating just in case the sexy bits are a bit too spicy for some :)  
> I will do my absolute best to update weekly every Thursday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Major chapter re-write on 4-6-19  
> I was never very happy with this first chapter ever since I posted it. With some gentle nudging by a friend I have reworked it. :)  
> I also used elements of it to rework the story's summary. I'm still not sure that it's exactly where I want it to be, but I feel it is an improvement.

 

The Test of High Sorcery changes every magic user who takes it. Every person to survive the ordeal finds themselves forever altered by their own unique experience during it. Mentally, physically or emotionally, the young wizard is never the same afterward.

Yurielle is no exception to this rule.

She went into her Test thinking that she'd continue to wear the white robes of good. But instead, she walked out wearing the black robes of evil.

Unlike most mages, Yurielle had very little memory of her Test. The only thing that she did have was a vague knowing that the gods of magic had come to her. And somehow, she knew that she had made a pact with them. She must have accepted their bargain, but for the life of young Yurielle, she could not understand why she had done so. But it was the only explanation of what had happened.

Yurielle wasn't evil or cruel, but for some reason that she could not fathom, the gods of magic had wanted her to walk in darkness. After her Test, life continued on as she tried to come to terms with her new path.

Was it because of her particular area of study? This subject was not for the faint of heart but it fascinated and drew her to it above all others.

This area of magic had to do with curses.

But Yurielle wasn't interested in casting curse magic.

No.

Her interest was in BREAKING them.

The more ancient and unsolvable the curse, the better challenge it was to her. She viewed them as puzzles, things to pick apart and unlock. The weave of magic around and within curses was a fascinating thing to her. Thrilling and terrifying, she sought out any information about them in order to come to understand them better. She found that she needed to see for herself what a curse did to a person, how the spells warped reality around them, often defying all laws of reason. And sometimes the curses seemed to defy even the rules of magic itself.

In the four years since taking her Test, Yurielle has delved further into curse lore than any other mage currently alive upon Krynn. Her picture perfect memory was able to lock in every detail, every word of a scroll or book, every rune and magical tome that she ever had read or seen. Everything she had come to learn was locked within her mind.

Yurielle lived her life at the Tower of High Sorcery in Wayreth. There she had seen hundreds of curses and had broken or come to understand all of them.

All but one.

Raistlin Majere was the exception to _this_ rule and the first time that Yurielle laid eyes upon the infamous archmage was within the crypts beneath the Great Library of Palanthas. The encounter of their meeting would forever prove to be the moment in time, more so than her Test had been, that changed her life forever.

And his.

 

 


	2. The Great Library

 

“My lady are you sure you want to stay in this part of the Library alone?” the mousy Aesthetic asked as he realized the woman intended on doing more than just browsing the ancient tomes and scrolls in this, the oldest part of the Great Library. She seemed as though she intended on staying for hours here!

The young woman's eyes twinkled at the man's discomfort. She was pretty sure he was going to have a fit of the vapors at any moment and this was going to be what broke him. Yurielle knew most people, including the monks that lived, worked, and breathed knowledge here at the Great Library, hated coming to this part of it. It was deep underground, for sunlight would often destroy some of these tomes, but Yurielle found it dry and comforting. However she knew that other people felt its icy chill, its darkness, and its long lost dangers.

As she looked around the room, she breathed the stale air deeply and smiled. “I am certain,” she stated as she removed her hood. Her dark sapphire eyes scanned the orderly shelves of ancient books and scrolls nearby. “It has been a year since I last visited my friends here, and I plan on getting to know them once again. I may be here for several hours. No... more like all day I'm afraid.”

The man gulped, his own brown eyes nervously darting to the dark corners and other shadows in the room, fearing the secrets that lurked there.

Yurielle giggled, the sound pierced through the dark like music, banishing it for just a moment. “I will be just fine,” she gently patted the man's arm, noting that he seemed to ease ever so slightly under her touch. She had that effect on people. Once they got over the fact that she wore the black robes of the evil god Nuitari, people generally warmed up to her when they realized she truly meant them no harm.

“Do you wish me to bring you lunch my lady?” the man asked sheepishly after she had turned away from him, already forgetting his presence.

“Hmm? Oh no that is alright,” she smiled again, offering him a flash of perfect white teeth and lightly freckled cheeks with their small dimples. “I'm sure you have far better things to do with your time than eat lunch with me.”

He gave a slight exhale of breath, probably from relief but she also noted a tiny hint of disappointment. “As you wish,” he bowed. “Someone will be down an hour before the Library closes to let you know the time.”

“Thank you,” she nodded. “That would be most kind.”

She finally breathed a sigh of relief when the sound of the man's footsteps receded. Turning back to her 'friends' she instantly bound over to the nearest shelf, her thick auburn hair with its golden ends flowing around her shoulders as she all but skipped in her excitement.

This was her idea of a holiday!

Instantly she walked up to one of the small glass orbs placed along the center aisle and whispered a command word. The orb, no bigger than her fist, began to gently glow and she lightly gathered it into her palm.

Fire was not permitted here so this room was almost always in perpetual twilight. Everlasting magical haze gave the room an eerie glow, like the essence of an army of ghosts wafted through the aisles, but it was hardly bright enough to read by.

Last time she was here she spent every day of her week long vacation in this room. She had barely scratched the surface of what was here. Returning to the exact spot where she had ended last time, she picked up the next few books that caught her eye and gently brought them to the one desk that sat in the center of the room.

Tapping each of the small globes that hung at different heights around the desk, she was soon bathed in pale silvery white light.

Setting her selection down on the surface of the black wood she gazed at the cover. The runes written across it were old and faded and in a language that very few knew. Yurielle smiled excitedly to herself. For she knew them all except this one.

The runes seemed to slither across the cover telling her it was powerful magic that bound this tome. But to her it was just another puzzle, another riddle to solve. Smiling she set to work knowing that she would quickly crack the codex and begin translating it.

If she was lucky she could start the next book by noon!

 

***

 

The only thing that gave her new visitor away was a small, sharp intake of breath that seemed to echo through the room after the hours of complete silence.

Yurielle started at the sound and looked up, causing a small groan to escape her lips. Her neck and shoulders were stiff and angry at the position she had held for the god's only knew how long. “Oh!” she exclaimed seeing a dark figure standing just outside of the small ring of magical illumination. “Hello! Is the Library ready to close?”

The figure stood silent and unanswering.

Rubbing her stiff neck she very slowly sat back in her chair, “Gods what time is it?” she rubbed her dark blue eyes, so dark they were nearly black, with the back of her pale slender hands. Her stomach gave an angry rumble as if it were answering her question.

A giggle escaped her lips, “I guess I missed lunch huh?”

Still the figure said nothing.

She carefully closed the tome that she had been reading and found that her fingers were numb and cold from touching it. Wincing at the pain she whispered a counter spell, instantly dispelling the death magic trying to leech her life force from her. “Not today friend,” she scolded the book with a long finger as she stood slowly causing her cramping muscles to scream at her.

Finally she turned to the new comer. She could tell this person wasn't one of the Aesthetics come to check on her because they were generally more talkative than this. “Am I in your seat? I can move if you wish, I've been here far too long anyway.” She peered into the darkness, unafraid of it.

“Silent type huh?” she shrugged her lean shoulders, the dark cloth of her plain and simple black robes hissed softly as she carefully gathered up the tome that she had been reading in one hand and a small glowing orb in the other. Yurielle took a step forward; the light from the orb in her hand dispelled some of the darkness between her and the newcomer revealing the hem of black robes trimmed in fine golden runes.

One more step revealed the person wearing the finely made garments that were edged in powerful runes of magic.

A man stood before her, slender and lean and indeed robed in the black robes of her order. He leaned on a tall staff that held a perfect crystal clenched in a golden dragon claw at the top of it. Yurielle felt herself pause as her light shown softly on not only the golden claw, but on the golden hued skin of his hand. Long white hair cascaded from the depths of the man's hood that still hid his face. The white strands fell pass the middle of his chest and shimmered coldly in the magical light.

Two small points of light reflected back where his eyes stared at her from within the depths of his hood.

Yurielle knew instantly who stood before her.

Bowing slightly she stammered, “Raistlin Majere.”

He started at the sound of his name then took a very slow, albeit slightly rattling breath, as if he hadn't remembered to breathe this whole time. “Morning,” the word was whispered at her from within that hood.

“Pardon?” she cocked her head.

“It's morning,” he said, suddenly animating and stepping further into the ring of pale light.

“Ah,” she nodded and gave him an easy smile. “I guess it seems like I was forgotten about down here.”

Raistlin took another step toward her, the light of the orb in her hand now reaching into his hood, fully revealing his face. “Seems like it,” was all he said in his soft whispering voice.

It was Yurielle who now gasped.

She had heard stories of Raistlin Majere and his strange appearance. Everyone knew about him. But hearing about him and seeing him in person were two very different things indeed. If Yurielle thought her Test at the Tower in Wayreth had been trying, it certainly didn't compare to what he must have faced.

For since the day he had taken his own Test, Raistlin's skin had shown with a gold metallic sheen.

His hair, though he was rumored to be around thirty years old, had been prematurely leeched of all color so that it was now a ghostly white and cascaded softly around a thin and lean face. He had a hard face that was detached and void of emotion. Long and bony, with a prominent nose and shallow cheeks, it was all angles and sharp lines. Raistlin Majere had a face that had the look of a perpetual snarl or scowl and was not particularly friendly looking.

But Yurielle thought that if he would smile or let go of his coldness for just a moment, his face would soften. _'He would be handsome if his face wasn't so cruel looking...'_ she thought as she studied him. She was looking up at him as she did so for he was somewhat taller than her, probably taller still if he didn't lean on that staff of his like he was now.

Yurielle could also hear the slow and shallow breathing of him rattle deep within damaged lungs. Tales and history told of how the young man had always been sickly but his trials during his Test had shattered his body.

As the woman continued to study him, she noted the most shocking thing about him was his eyes. Eyes that now held her in his hard gaze. Golden and bright he dug into her soul with pupils not shaped like normal a man's, but with pupils shaped like an hourglass. It was said that they forced him to see time as it touched all things.

Yurielle suddenly wondered how she must look to him. In her own mind she imagined her skin slowly rotting and melting away as his eyes saw time upon her mortal form.

“What a fascinating curse....” she heard herself whisper in awe as she beheld those eyes.

He blinked, breaking his hold on her. A crease of confusion marred the smooth golden plane between his eyes as he regarded her silently.

“Sorry,” she felt herself blush. “Curses are kind of my thing.” She tilted her head to the stack of books still on the desk beside them.

Those eyes of his left her for a moment and flickered quickly over the tomes, then to the one in her arms, then back up to her face. She saw something spark in them. Annoyance? Amusement? Intrigue? Understanding? She couldn't quite tell what emotion played in them for the brief heartbeat she thought she saw it.

 _'Perhaps it was just a play of the light,'_ she thought as she fell once again under that strange gaze.

“Indeed,” he said. “That tome you cradle to your breast is no bedtime story. The fact you hold it thus speaks volumes.” They stood in silence for what felt like an eternity before he continued, “You know my name, but I have yet to learn yours....” his voice was soft and coaxing.

Despite herself, Yurielle felt the blush creep up her neck and blossom across her cheeks as she hugged the death tome closer to her heart as if she could hide behind it. Raistlin's eyes widened infinitesimally, those pupils dilating slightly as his breath hitched in his throat.

“Yurielle,” she said after clearing her throat and finding her voice. “My name is Yurielle.”

“Yurielle....” he repeated softly, it sounded as if he caressed the word as he spoke it, turning it in his mind and on his tongue to study every angle of it.

She shivered for the first time in this dark room.

“No surname?” he cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, the movement disturbed more of that long white hair and caused it to fall down from beneath his hood.

She shook her head, “No. Just Yurielle. I have no family, thus no surname.”

He nodded slightly but continued to silently study her.

Her stomach gave another loud rumble, earning her a tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth. The action brought sudden warmth to that golden marble face.

Yes, he could be handsome Yurielle decided when she saw that whisper of a smile there on his lips. But just as quickly as it fell, the hard shell formed back around him again and the scowl reappeared.

“You've been here all night?” he asked, finally tearing his eyes from her fully. “By yourself?” Raistlin asked as he walked around the desk peering fully at the tomes that she had been reading.

Thankful that he was apparently finished with his harsh study of her, Yurielle felt her shoulders slump in relief. “As far as I know it's only been a night....” she confessed. “And why does everyone seem so shocked I want to be in here?”

She watched as his long slender fingers ran over the edges of her small stack of books. His golden skin shimmered ever so slightly in the orbs light. The books that she had been reading were various tomes of necromancy as well as lore regarding some of the most ancient and forbidden magics of the past age.

Raistlin gave a small shrug of his lean shoulders, “Most people find this place disquieting. There are things worse than shadows to be found in some of these tomes. Sometimes they like to come out and play with the weak minded.”

“Disquieting?” she felt herself laugh, the sound was light and musical. “So says the man who lives within the Shoikan Grove!”

Yurielle regained control of herself to find him once again looking at her, but his eyes were wide and incredulous now. The archmage had the look of someone who was witnessing something he never thought he'd see before. It was a look that Yurielle imagined one would wear when they saw something that wasn't supposed to exist at all.

“Sorry,” she felt herself flush yet again, noting the heat on her face with slight irritation. “I'm afraid I'm tired and a bit giddy from lack of food. I mean no offense to your place of residence.

“Anyway....” she said when he made no reply or even any attempt to move once again. “I'd better put these away and go find that Aesthetic who promised me he'd come get me. He owes me lunch for forgetting about me!”

She left him to gape after her as she exited the safe ring of light and entered the darkest section of the room. This area held some of the most evil and vile books upon the face of all Krynn.

The darkness swallowed Yurielle whole as if it were a living thing. Skeletal fingers seemed to try to grab at her as she placed the Necromancer's tome back in its spot as she hummed a soft gentle tune. Ignoring the deathly whispers floating on the air around her she easily found her way back out of the cloud of darkness.

“Nuitari's tit!” she swore as she walked straight into Raistlin's still form waiting just outside the billowing blackness. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack!” she nearly shrieked after she steadied herself.

Disentangling himself from her, he righted himself as well. “What were you _doing_?” he asked, completely bewildered.

“I.... I put the book away...” she stated the obvious, pointing behind her shoulder at the threatening darkness that still rolled there. The blackness was still sending out arms to grasp at her but they seemed unable to take hold of the woman.

Raistlin's eyes were wide again and his mouth hung slightly ajar. “Not that!” he said, taking her by the elbow and guiding them both away from the shadows and the hands that were still trying to reach them. Voices shrieked and gibbered angrily at them as they walked away.

Yurielle started at his touch against her arm. It was a casual contact that would seem normal if not for the searing heat that emanated from his skin. Being this close to him now, so close she could clearly hear the rattle of his lungs and smell the familiar scent of his spell components he wore around him, she could finally feel that heat billowed off of his whole body. To her it felt as if the gold that encased him was molten and fresh from the furnace where it was smelted.

Raistlin led her back to the desk and released her. His hood had fallen back during their tiny scuffle, the pale light of the orbs made his hair look almost silver. It contrasted oddly with his skin and made it appear as if he were made of both precious metals.

“I don't...”

“You were _singing_!” he clarified, the look of pure shock still on his face as they reached the safety of the light around desk.

“Yeah I guess I was,” she casually shrugged, trying to dispel the feel of his hand on her arm. “Sorry, it's a habit of mine. I find it helps nullify some of the death magic. I apologize if it was disturbing you,” she began to gather up the stack of books, trying to find something to do other than feel like a bug under his gaze. “I'll clear these up and be out of your way in just a moment.”

He blinked at her again and ran a hand through that long silver hair, “Why do you keep apologizing?”

She opened her mouth to say sorry once more but snapped it shut with a loud click, his eyes once again locked on her. “Another bad habit of mine,” she had the grace to blush again.

Bowing slowly she took her leave of him and hurried down another row, putting books back where they belonged as she went. Her stomach gave a third growl, this one far louder than the others and it seemed to echo through the room. “Shut up you traitorous sod!” she whispered venomously at her stomach that was now gnawing at her spine. “You're embarrassing me...”

Finishing up as quickly as possible, Yurielle returned to the main aisle that would lead her out to the rest of the Library. Placing her orb back on its original stand she whispered the darkening spell and turned to find Raistlin still standing in the small pool of light in the middle of the room. His long fingers rested lightly on the smooth dark surface of the desk next to him. Those bright golden eyes were still on her even though in this darkness she doubted that he could see her.

Feeling like she should just leave before she made an even bigger fool of herself in front of the most powerful mage in all of Krynn, she turned to go.

“Tomorrow Yurielle?” his voice floated to her across the silent room.

“Huh?” she turned back to him. He hadn't moved a muscle.

“Will you be back tomorrow?”

“S...Sure,” she stammered.

She saw him nod slightly before she turned and all but fled out of the room.

 

 

 


	3. Altered Paths

 

Very few things ever surprised Raistlin Majere. He had summoned demons, seen into the pits of the Abyss, spoken with gods and still worked with powerful dark magic on many occasions. Not once had he flinched or batted an eyelash. Not once did he waver in the face of certain death.

But finding a woman in the bowels of the Great Library of Palanthas, reading some of the most terrifying tomes ever assembled in one place; this left him utterly speechless.

Who was she? Why was she here? How could she hold such darkness at bay with such ease and... purity? Raistlin found that he had no other word for what he had just witnessed. His mind simply wouldn’t grasp how the woman he had met could have been real. How could someone who gave off such an aura of good possibly be wearing the black robes of evil? The contradiction was nearly maddening and the archmage found that he HAD to know more about her.

‘No…’ he thought to himself. No, that wasn't the reason that he had to find out more about her.

It was because she did not decay in his eyes.

It was because her voice made the magic in his veins sing.

It was because the magic around her seemed to spark and dance in a way that he had never before beheld.

Raistlin stood there next to the desk that she had abandoned alone in the darkness; stood there for hours, as still as a statue, while he tried to figure out what in the nine hells he had just met.

There had been a few rare occasions when he had beheld people who did not rot in his cursed sight. Very young elves aged slow enough that he could gaze at them and appreciate their beauty. But even so, if he watched them long enough, they too would succumb to his cursed eyes. Raistlin had once met a lich that did not rot, but the aura of death that had rolled off the being had been unmistakably magical and he had known immediately what the creature was. A dragon in man form also did not wither before him, as creatures such as that were immortal beings of magic. Gods of course did not rot before him, but their visages pierced his brain like daggers. Then again: no mortal could long gaze at such an infinite being. But this girl…

Raistlin recalled every detail of her striking heart shaped face that he had etched into his brain during their brief meeting. Her fair skin had shimmered in the pale light of the orbs around them and had revealed a soft dusting of freckles across a slender nose. She had smiled at him with pouting lips; the act of it had exposed tiny dimples he had not expected on her cheeks. The thick hair that framed her face was auburn in its coloring and had fallen down her back in waves of brown and red that ended in golden highlights, as if her hair faded as it grew.

And then there had been the most stunning aspect of this strange woman - her eyes. Those eyes had been so blue and dark that they were nearly indigo in their color. Soulful and knowing, her eyes had looked at him without the usual fright or pity that most people gave him upon their first meeting. Instead, Raistlin had seen curiosity aimed at him, catching him off guard. The archmage had also sensed an intelligence lingering behind her eyes as well as a ravenous need for knowledge that rivaled and mirrored his own. But most of all, she had meet his cursed eyes with an unflinching gaze that in its own way was just as unsettling as his.

And that voice.... Gods, that voice!

The hairs along his arms stood on end at the very memory of the sound. The archmage had never heard anything like it, had never felt anything like it when she had sung. The sound of it summoned forth a rush of magic in his veins that he had never thought possible.

It was sometime later that Raistlin finally stirred and realized that he had completely lost track of time.

Before his day had been thrown off course, he had originally come to the Library on a mission to research the gods. Raistlin’s mind was finally set on his next course of action: he wanted to see if it was possible to uproot a god and to become one. It was logically the next step in his quest for ultimate power.

Long had he fought Takhisis, the Queen of Darkness, and - while he had succeeded in sealing her away in the Abyss at the end of the War - Raistlin could still sense her, as Takhisis was still enraged at his betrayal. But Raistlin had only done what had been necessary in order to keep the goddess locked away.

And yet the world gave him no thanks, instead labeling him an outcast and a renegade.

So be it. He did not need anyone on this path that he was now destined to walk. The path that would ultimately lead him to the Abyss to face off with the Goddess that he had angered. This time, he would end her completely and take her place.

Raistlin Majere was destined - in his mind - to become a god among the pantheon.

But finding a strange woman beneath the Library in the dark presented to him a new mystery that demanded his immediate attention. And so, he decided, his long standing feud with a certain god could wait.

Raistlin's robes whispered softly, his staff lightly thudding against the marble floor, as he turned and exited the dark hidden chamber.

 

***

 

Yurielle exited the Great Library in haste, having decided not to find and scold the Aesthetic that had forgotten about her. Instead she just wanted to get away from the man that she had just met in the darkness beneath the ancient building.

Not that she was afraid. No, she wasn't afraid, but her heart thudded in her ears anyway as she made her way through the busy streets of Palanthas on this chilled but sunny morning. 'I just need some fresh air,' she thought as she hurried down the cold marble street.

Yurielle had apparently been in the dark depths of the Library for at least a whole day. It wouldn't surprise her if she had been there for more than that; after all, it wouldn't be the first time that she had lost track of time in her studies.

Finally she reached her destination, a neat and tidy inn several blocks away from the Library. Aptly named the Sage's Rest, the small cozy inn was ran by a red robed mage named Sarel Starmantle and his homely wife Murin, who Yurielle had met during her first trip to Palanthas two years ago. They had quickly taken a liking to the young black robe and brought her under their wing when so very few would.

“Yurielle!” Murin exclaimed from behind the bar when she spied the young woman enter the common room. “Sarel, she's back!” the woman called through the door to the kitchen as she threw down her cleaning rag and hurried towards her.

“Where have you been, child?! We nearly came searching for you!”

Yurielle slumped into the nearest chair. The common room was mostly empty on this morning, with only a few guests still there as well as a couple customers just in for breakfast. “Sorry, Murin,” she rubbed her eyes. “I lost track of time and spent the night in the Library. It was just one day, right?” She eyed the other woman worriedly.

“Yes,” Murin nodded kindly, “and we were starting to fear that something had happened to you! Thank Paladine that you are safe!” She hugged Yurielle. “But you look tired and hungry, dearie, what can I get you?” the woman asked as she patted the black fabric on Yurielle's shoulder comfortingly.

“Anything!” Yurielle's stomach gave an agreeing gurgle.

At that moment the door to the kitchen swung open and a huge barrel of a man appeared. “Yurielle!” he cried, his face lighting up in a smile that shone from behind his braided beard. Yurielle always thought the man looked like a huge dwarf and thought so again as he strode over to her, moving with more grace than his bulk would suggest. “Girl, we were getting worried! I was going to give you until noon before I came looking for you!”

“Sorry, Sarel but you know me! I lost track of time and apparently no one remembered I was down there -”

She snapped her mouth shut. Yurielle didn't like telling her friends where she liked to study. Or, more often, they didn't like to hear about it.

The tall burly man eyed Yurielle as his wife passed him on her way to fetch the girl something to eat and drink. “You were in the crypts of the Library again?!”

“Sarel,” Yurielle laid a small hand against his thick arm. “You know I'm a curse breaker. What better place to research?”

He sighed heavily. “Aye, lass, I know.” He patted her hand. “’Tis a dangerous place and a dangerous interest you hold. Many powerful mages have gone into that room never to return. I just worry about you, you know that.”

“Thanks, Sarel,” she flashed her dimples at him. “But I can take care of myself. You know the darkness has no hold on me.” At that moment Murin returned with a plate of cheese, bread and cut fruit as well as a glass of white wine and a mug of water. “Oh Murin, you are a saint! Thank you!”

The man watched silently as the young woman greedily shoved food into her mouth as if she had never eaten in her life. Sarel couldn't help but chuckle at her childlike attitude. After all, it was one of the things that he liked about her. How she came to take the black robes and not the red… only the gods knew the answer to that riddle. She would have made a fine red robe.

“Well, we're both glad that you are safe, Yurielle,” Murin said. “Your room is all made up and waiting for you. I can have a bath drawn for you if you wish.”

Yurielle swallowed and washed down the herb bread with a long draft of water and set the mug down with a quiet thud.

“Do not trouble yourself, Murin, as long as my wash basin is fresh I will make due. First -” she yawned, “- I need some sleep!”

 

***

 

“I'm sorry! I don't know anything about the girl!”

The slender Aesthetic trembled before the archmage's questions. “I sent someone to go fetch her last night! I didn't know my request was ignored!”

“Has she been here before?” Raistlin's soft voice seemed to cut the man like knives.

Panicked words tumbled out of the poor man in a rush. “Yes! One of the other Aesthetics said that she had been here a year ago, she spent a week amongst the books and said that she was on holiday from the Tower at Wayreth, other than that I know nothing about her! She arrived yesterday and instantly insisted that she be given access to the lower crypts. Master Astinus had granted her entry last time, so we allowed her to continue without bothering the master again...”

Raistlin released the trembling man from his gaze with a nod, for he believed that this information was truly everything the man knew about her.

“Strange way to spend a holiday,” he said so softly to himself that the other man didn't hear it above his panic. “Very well,” Raistlin said louder. “That is all I need to know. I will return tomorrow. Make sure a second chair is taken down to the lower level. If I am to have company while I read, we might as well both have a place to sit.”

“As... as you wish!” The Aesthetic bowed and hastily left the room, his sandals nearly flying off his feet as he fled the mage's presence.

Raistlin shook his head as he watched the man disappear. Turning around, he went to return to his tower, only to come face to face with the Master of the Library himself.

“Astinus.” Raistlin bowed to the only other person that did not wither in his vision.

“Greetings, old friend,” the elder acknowledged with a slight nod.

“To what do I owe the honor of your presence, great historian?” Raistlin inquired, knowing that the number of times this man left his work could be counted on the fingers of one hand.

The Chronicler regarded the archmage in silence for a few seconds. “The timeline has shifted, Master of the Past and Present. I merely wished to tell you in person.”

And thus, for the second time in one day, Raistlin Majere was left speechless and confused as to the strange turn of events.  


 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to ChangeMadnessRubinia for helping me to edit this chapter :)


	4. Meeting The Darkness

 

Yurielle awoke far later than she had meant to. Having slept much of the day away yesterday she had spent the night in the common room listening to a minstrel and sharing stories with her hosts. She had retired late and paid the price.

Cursing to herself at her laziness she rolled out of bed to quickly wash the sleep from her face and freshen up using the water in the small basin near her bed. The water was cool and refreshing and left a light scent of lavender and rose on her skin as she dried and changed into a fresh linen shift and undergarments before donning her black robes that she had come to wear as a second skin. Gathering her belt of spell components around her, she arrayed the tiny dangling animal skulls, pouches and feathers so they draped around her lean waist and fell in a way that would not hinder her movements.

She braided her thick hair around the crown of her head as the morning sun rose ever higher outside of her window. The autumn came much earlier here in Palanthas versus back at Wayreth. The crisp breeze floated to her through the slightly open window and sounds of the markets down the street could be heard.

Exiting her room she locked the door and tucked the key into one of her many pouches before hurrying down the steps. Sarel and Murin were cleaning up after the breakfast rush and fed her what was left of the fried potatoes and sausage which she then washed down with home-made apple cider.

“Back to the Library today then?” Sarel asked as he polished a row of wine glasses.

Yurielle nodded as she downed the mug of cider in front of her. “A curse breakers work is never done!” she gave her friends a roguish smile as she darted out the door into the crisp mid-morning air.

She was half way to the Library when she remembered that _he'd_ be there.

Her footsteps slowed to a crawl.

Did she want to encounter Raistlin Majere again? Not that she was afraid of him. He was unsettling to be sure, but she couldn't deny that there was something about him. Something that struck an uncomfortable cord inside of her when he stared at her with those cursed eyes of his. Such interesting cursed eyes.

There it was again, her heart sped up as she thought of the enigmatic man.

Yurielle sighed in frustration and continued on her way. “You're acting like a child,” she scolded herself. “He's the most powerful wizard of this Age, what was done to him was his punishment from the gods....” Her mind whirled and the thought came unbidden to her, _'Oh but yes wouldn't it be marvelous to undo a god curse?'_

She found that her footsteps had sped up and she forced herself to slow to a leisurely pace. God curse or no. He was still Raistlin Majere and by all accounts, a man to be feared.

And he had asked if she would be returning today. Did that mean he wanted to learn more about her? Or did he simply wish to be left alone while undergoing his own studies, wanting to avoid the place if she'd be there? There was always the chance he wouldn't show anyway. After all he was a busy man, being evil and all Yurielle reminded herself as she rounded the last corner and made her way to the front walk ways that lead up to the Great Library.

The grounds of the Great Library of Palanthas were a work of art. Carefully groomed lawns with lush green grass spread out between rows of tall trees and interspersed with clumps of flower gardens. People of all races and creeds could always be found on the grounds enjoying the shade and beauty of the gardens themselves.

Yurielle's footsteps crunched lightly on the smooth marble of the walkway as she made her way up to the Library. The nearer one went to the great building, the more Aesthetics and scholars one could see. Everyone was invited into the Library. Well everyone except kender, she was reminded as she spied a robed Aesthetic escorting out a small female kender who had somehow found her way into the building. The little woman squealed in delight and bound over to a small group that only Yurielle could see hiding behind a low wall. Their giggles were childlike in their awe and enthusiasm for their friends little adventure into the forbidden Library.

Yurielle smiled at the folk. She envied their child like wonder, even if most people thought of them as pests, kender were some of the most interesting people in all of Krynn. Or so she thought.

Reaching the entrance Yurielle wasted no time in tracking down the first Aesthetic she could find and asked that she be taken below to the lower chamber. As always the man started sweating at the very thought of delving into that dark place. “Just to the last doorway and no further,” she assured the man. “I've been here enough times to know my way around just fine.”

As they descended one of the stairways into the Library's lower depths, she couldn't help but ask, “Has the Master of the Dark Tower arrived yet?”

The man gulped, knowing who she meant. She guessed rightly that the presence of Raistlin Majere sent these sheltered monks into spells of fright whenever he made an appearance here. “I'm not sure my lady,” came the nervous reply. “Another may have assisted him before I arrived.”

She nodded but said nothing as they made their way deeper into the ancient buildings innards. Finally, after taking several turns and hidden stairways, they passed the final sentinels who guarded this level and descended to the last hallway. “You may leave me here. I know the rest of the way,” she insisted and side stepped him, continuing down the hall. She didn't turn to look at the man but knew he wore a look of relief on his face.

“As the lady wishes!” he said, followed by the sounds of his sandals retreating back the way they had come.

Reaching the last door she took a slow breath before opening it and entering the dark chamber.

It was pitch black, she exhaled a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

He wasn't here.

Shrugging to the darkness she reached over and found one of small illumination orbs and spoke the command word. It sparked to life, surrounding her in a small silver halo of light. Turning back to the aisle she paused to decide a course of her study for the day, chewing her lower lip in her teeth for a moment she nodded to herself and proceeded to find the aisle she wanted.

The chamber was round, its aisles were like the spokes of a wheel all stretching out from the center and separating the different sections of books. “Alright, where did we leave off?” she said softly to the darkness as she followed one of the outer rings. Before long she had several books selected from within the tomes related to the exiled dark elves who had been banished from the order of magic long before the Cataclysm.

Taking them to the empty desk in the center of the room she paused. There were now two chairs there.

Laying the tomes on the desks polished surface she stared at the new chair, her brow furrowed in trying to guess its meaning. She slowly touched the small orbs that hung around the desk as her eyes darted to the chair, as if expecting him to suddenly appear in it as each orb came to life.

When nothing happened she sat in the same seat she had occupied yesterday. She took one last slow look at the thick shadows around her, she felt as if she were being watched. One was always watched here she knew. Like he had said to her yesterday, long forgotten spells and stray magic tended to take form inside these walls. One was never truly alone. But this time felt different; this time she felt mortal eyes on her.

Or she was being paranoid, she decided as she reached into her satchel and took out a small hourglass and set it on the desktop. “There,” she said softly. “No losing track of time today friends.” She flicked the glass carefully with a fingernail, making it ring through the room. Smiling slightly she let the sound soar for a moment. The sound dropped an octave and she added her voice in harmony to the sound. Slowly and quietly she matched its pitch perfectly then rose an octave as it lowered its own. A flash within the glass flared for a moment and sand suddenly appeared where there was none just a moment before. Slowly the grains began to fall, each one glittering in the light of the orbs like tiny falling stars.

She stopped her singing and the room was suddenly, eerily quiet for the glass had also stopped its ringing. Nodding her satisfaction she pulled out a small roll of paper and inkwell from the small bag at her side. Smoothing out the rolled parchment she then took the top most book from her small stack. Running her fingers over the ancient bound leather, caressing it as one would a lover she could feel the secrets hidden inside, waiting for her eyes to unravel them.

Clicking her tongue softly on the roof of her mouth she spoke a few command words and the hidden runes on the binding flashed hotly. “Tricky little elves,” she couldn't help but laugh. “Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice still shame on you...” a smile spread across her face as she opened the cover, her indigo eyes sparkling as she set to work.

The tome was in an ancient elvish, long unused in the current societies across Krynn. Luckily for her she had learned this dialect when she was barely ten years old so this book yielded its secrets easily to her.

After some time she paused in her work and realized she had been biting the end of her quill again. The feather was wet and soggy. “Dammit all!” she scowled and flicked the quill back and forth in an attempt to fluff the strands back out but instead the feather snapped just above her hand. Her cry of dismay echoed through the chamber.

“Yurielle you dunderhead! That was my last quill...” she set the broken instrument down on the desk and sat back in the chair closing her eyes and rubbing her already stiff neck. Not that much time had passed already. Had it?

She opened her eyes and froze. The chair opposite her was no longer empty.

Raistlin Majere sat quietly there, legs folded and golden hands resting softly on his knee. His hood was pulled back and he regarded her with a careful, albeit amused expression which glittered in those bizarre eyes. “You talk to yourself a lot. Another bad habit?”

She sat up again in the chair, trying to not act surprised at his sudden appearance. “I was wondering when you would show yourself.”

“I could say the same to you,” he replied coolly.

“Afraid I had stood you up?” she teased lightly.

A tiny smirk played across his lips, they were thin but curved with well-defined arches and glinted at her as he spoke. “Mayhaps,” he shrugged casually. “Few are brave enough to enter this chamber much less sit and chat with the Master of the Tower. So late or no, I am impressed that you arrived at all.”

She had heard tales of how Raistlin Majere held himself in the highest regards when it came to his standing and in his magic. He was arrogant and self-absorbed. This was his element, here in the darkness with his own secrets and power to keep himself company. Even so she wouldn't let him get to her, she'd grown up around mages like him and knew how to deal with their sort.

“I'm a busy girl Master Majere. I can't be expected to drop everything I had planned for the morning just to be distracted by a fellow black robe and his questions,” she replied.

He arched a white eyebrow at her, “Indeed? What sort of activities does Yurielle see to until noon to keep the Master of the Past and Present waiting in the dark?”

This time she shrugged casually, “I'm on holiday. If you must know I took the rare opportunity to sleep in.”

He chuckled lightly. The sound was odd coming from damaged lungs. But at least he didn't seem annoyed by her reason or her bluntness. “Fair enough. So what are we reading today? Not another death tome?”

“Sadly no,” she pouted dramatically. “Just some precataclysm dark elf stuff. Mostly just angst and fist shaking at the Conclave and their rules. You know, the usual.”

He regarded her quietly for several moments as his eyes now held her again in their hard stare. “What does a curse breaker want with angsty dark elves?” he finally asked in that unsettling quiet way he spoke.

She eyed him back, holding his gaze and not backing down or batting an eye, “I told you that you have a fascinating curse. I see an interesting mystery to solve in you Raistlin Majere... or at least one to come to understand.”

He sat there silent, his body had gone ridged. “Such things,” he began quietly in an offended tone, “are not yours to solve.”

“True,” she conceded the point. “But many tales surround you back at the Tower in Wayreth and even more now that you are a famed Hero of the Lance. I merely enjoy a good mystery, with a little angst thrown in of course,” she tapped the book in front of her with a delicate finger and offered him a playful wink.

The archmage merely blinked at her in surprise. He was clearly unused to so casual a conversation, especially with a stranger interested in his own person and the curses he bore. Raistlin opened his mouth to say something but he quickly closed it as he suddenly sat forward in his chair, those strange eyes bore into her. “What know you of such matters? And why would you care?”

“I merely know what most know about you,” she said calmly. “And seeing you in person has simply ignited my interest. As far as why I would care?” Again she shrugged, “Curse breaker. Remember?”

“Not all curses can be broken,” he said louder than his previous words and his voice seemed to boom through the room.

“This too is true,” she nodded. “But I've come to learn that all curses can be understood and in the understanding is often where the breaking can be found. If not, I've also found that one can learn to dance around the curse, to mold it and shape it. It _is_ magic after all, even if it has been infused into a person's very being. There's layers to them, often going far beyond the physical. Most curses hold sway in the emotional and spiritual realms as well. If you'd allow me and given enough time... I'm pretty sure I can help you.”

“Not interested,” he suddenly stood up and grabbed his staff that had stood unmoving next to his chair.

Yurielle finally let shock cover her face for a fleeting moment but she reined it in quickly and only nodded. “Suit yourself.” Cocking her head to the side she regarded him, “Did you know your golden skin is not a curse?”

His eyes snapped to hers from where he had been staring off into the darkness, lost in thought. “I don't see it as one. So no.”

“You really don't want to understand what happened to you? You don't wish to be healed?”

“I've come to understand all I need to know about myself Yurielle,” his voice was low and threatening as he took one quick step around the corner of the desk. “I have been like this for over a decade. Curses or no there is nothing to be done to repair what the God's thought necessary to do to me during my Test.”

“Do you though? Do you really understand?” she heard herself say and gasped. For in a movement she didn't think he was capable of, he was at her side. Her chin was gripped in his long fingers, they were far stronger than she had ever guessed. His flesh was like a hot vice as he squeezed and forced her to look up into his eyes.

Eyes that now blazed menacingly.

“You know NOTHING of me Yurielle with no surname,” he growled at her, squeezing harder, painfully so. “Yurielle who breaks curses. Yurielle who sings to the shadows.” Taking a breath he seemed intent to continue, but she heard his lungs rattle and fail within him and he suddenly succumbed to a terrifying coughing fit.

Like everyone she had heard of how frail his health was. It was completely at odds with the power that he wielded. It was as if the universe had granted him magic unrivaled in return for his very health. She starred in horror as he was reduced to a quivering, hacking form right in front of her.

Raistlin doubled over with one hand on the desk to try to steady himself, his other covered his mouth as he struggled unsuccessfully to breathe.

Yurielle saw blood on his fingers.

“Raistlin!” she gasped and stood next to him as he slumped lower to the desk. The sound of his coughing and gasping was horrifying. It was like listening to someone drown.

She laid a hand over his chest and could feel the lungs inside rattle and convulse against her hand. “Calm yourself...” she said softly and eased him over into the chair she had vacated. He all but collapsed into it as his strength quickly drained from his body that was unable to draw any air.

Her one hand still over his heart she now grasped his face with her other, just the same as he had done to her a moment ago. Only her touch was gentle and coaxing. “Raistlin,” she called and drew his weakened face to look at her. “Breathe! I need you to breathe for me....”

From the depths of his agony Raistlin Majere heard a voice call to him. From the edge of consciousness his eyes focused for a split second on deep blue iris's.

“....breathe for me....” he heard.

And his lungs obeyed.

Air rushed into his damaged respiratory system. First one small gasp, then another. Stars and black spots swam before his eyes.

“Good Raistlin,” he heard a soft voice encourage him. There was a heavy warmth against his chest. “Breathe slowly.... that’s it. Just breathe...”

He focused on that warmth there against his chest and obeyed. Very slowly his eyes came back into focus, the stars and spots cleared as oxygen returned to his starving cells. Indigo orbs hovered before him, like dark pools of a midnight sky. Yurielle's eyes held his and he yet again marveled at how she did not rot in his gaze.

Raistlin's hand went to that warmth on his chest only to have his fingers brush against hers. Another weight along his face revealed her other hand to his searching one.

“Stay breathing! Don't move just yet, ” Yurielle commanded, feeling a tense and negative reaction building inside of him. “Just BE for a moment. Just be and just breathe.... Breathe with me....”

For the first time in his life, Raistlin was frozen under the power of someone else and all he could do was obey her. They stared at each other, the only sound, their slow even intake and outtake of breaths. Her fingers laced with his against his chest, as if she held his rib cage together with nothing but her touch. That touch and that warmth penetrated through him. Deep into his body, soothing the rawness his fit had torn through his lungs.

He slumped back into the chair. Yurielle allowed him to and followed him. Kneeling beside him now, her one hand left the side his face, but kept the other there on his chest.

“Well...” she said slowly as she gently ran her hand against his chest in a soothing manner. “That was certainly scary.”

Those hourglass orbs closed wearily and she could feel the tension slowly ebbing from his body as he finally began to take long even breaths. She could feel his heart under her hand, beating like a fragile bird caged beside two traitorous and unpredictable companions.

Convinced he wasn't going to die, she ended that soft caress and went to remove her hand. Only to have him hold it there in a vice like grip, his fingers tightening around hers.

Her eyes snapped back up to his face to find him holding her in that hard stare once again. Only this time, they held a shred of humanity. “Thank you...” he rasped quietly. If she hadn't been so close to him, she probably would not have heard him.

She nodded slightly, “I can't have you dying on me Raistlin Majere. Imagine the kind of reputation that would come with such an occurrence.”

He only sat there, slumped against the side of the tall chair, his fingers finally let her go as his breathing grew stronger.

“What else can I do for you?” she asked softly and dabbed the edge of his mouth with the cuff of her robe where flecks of blood stained the gold skin.

His eyes finally opened and she nearly gasped at the look within them. Humanity and sadness radiated at her for a single heartbeat. But her own heart clenched at how quickly he squashed those emotions, the hard mask was suddenly back and those eyes were cold and menacing. “Help me up. I need to return to my Tower to rest....”

Slowly she assisted him to rise. He leaned heavily on her arm as he whispered a small word and his staff soared over into his waiting hand. With her help and that of the Staff of Magius, they slowly made their way around the desk.

Yurielle tapped the orbs as they left, extinguishing each as they passed.

“Shirak,” he said raggedly and the round crystal on top of that staff flared to life.

The darkness around them however, seemed intent on being thick and oily. The light dimmed the farther down the aisle they traveled. Whispers and gibbering began to echo in the darkness. A black skeletal hand pierced the air before them, long bony fingers grasping at the air.

Yurielle's eye's narrowed from next to Raistlin's side where he still leaned on her, “No you don't friends. There may be blood in the water but you will not win this hunt!” She held out her free hand before them and snapped her fingers. The sound rang around them, silencing the whispers for a moment and in that heartbeat of silence she began to sing. The melody had no words for it was like a humming sing song type of rhythm. There was no pattern or cadence to the tune, only sounds that wove around them, shielding them and stilling the grasping darkness, forcing it back away from the light of Raistlin's staff. “Sleep my dear friends and dream of other meals,” she cooed softly as they neared the door.

The blackness stilled, “To bed now, we'll play again soon,” she shooed the shadows away and at once they all darted back into the aisles around them.

They continued to the door and exited into the dim hall beyond.

“How did you...” Raistlin wheezed slightly.

Yurielle noted that his breathing had become fast again. He seemed suddenly agitated so she drew them to a stop a few yards past the door. “No worry of yours Master of the Dark Tower. Right now we must see that you rest.”

He was leaning more heavily on his staff now and she gently put her arm around his lean frame, “Lean on me more. It is a long way out of this place and there are many stairs to climb.”

Silently he obeyed and put his arm over her shoulders, allowing her to steady him with her arm around his waist. By the time they had reached the first stair way his breathing had become ragged once again and they were forced to stop. He leaned then against the wall.

Being this close to him she felt the heat billowing off of him like a furnace. She quickly realized however that though he was unnaturally warm, the heat didn't seem to make her too overly uncomfortable. She let herself be lulled by the strange warmth and the familiar smell that emanated from him. That of flower petals and crushed bone, of all the other spell components he held upon his person. Like her, he smelled of magic and power, hidden by spices and flower petals but always with that very slight undertone of something dead.

She stood in front of him and lay her hand back on his chest as they rested there by the foot of the steps, feeling his heart beat again, and those traitorous lungs flutter uselessly inside of him. “You need healing Raistlin... surely something can be done.”

He shook his head slightly, “Nothing can heal this... I simply must endure it.” Raistlin wasn't looking at her. Instead he seemed as if he was trying to shrink away from her touch and trying desperately to sink into the wall. “Dulak,” he whispered and his staff went dark. “I'm ready to continue.”

It took them the better part of the next hour to reach the upper level of the Great Library. They rested often and now always in silence. He wouldn't look at her and seemed reluctant to take her offered help. None of the guards along the way seemed eager to offer assistance and Raistlin ordered them to be silent with a snarl.

Finally reaching the last door that would lead them to the main chambers of the Library, they rested for a short time and Raistlin removed himself from her. “My horse should be out front with the others, fetch it for me and meet me there.”

“Which....” she was going to ask which horse would be his but the look he gave her made her pause. “Right, knowing you I’ll be able to figure it out.”

Yurielle left him there in the cool recess of stone to make his own way down to the exit behind her. She went and found the small stable just outside the side of the building where several horses were tied near troughs of water and small piles of hay.

Looking them over she indeed could tell which horse belonged to the Master of the Past and Present. For before her a tall, lean and jet black stallion stood nearly motionless. The other horses shied away from the dark animal with eyes that were far too intelligent. “Come on lad,” she held her hand out to the beast, “Your master needs your help. Follow me and I'll take you to him.”

The horse obeyed.

She made it back to the doorway of the building just as Raistlin exited. It was taking all his will to force his body to walk the few yards from the hall they exited, down to this side door and when he reached Yurielle his knees nearly gave out. Weakly he grasp the side of the saddle and coughed against the leather. Thankfully the fit passed quickly. With great effort and with what help Yurielle could offer, he hauled himself up onto the tall horses back.

Raistlin slumped against the pummel, nearly falling against the horse's neck.

“Whoa hey!” Yurielle exclaimed and tried to steady him as best she could from where she was on the ground. “Raistlin this is nonsense you can't even sit up...”

“I'll be fine,” he wheezed.

“And I'd be a pig's ass if I believed you!” she scowled and then suddenly, before he could protest, she had lightly flung herself up behind him to sit on the horse's rump. The animal shuffled uneasily, unused to the extra weight on the area she sat on. “Lean against me and hand me the reins.”

He did so but finally argued, “You cannot enter the Grove.” His breath rattled, “The horse is warded.... I have no strength for you.”

“I heard you have an apprentice now. Can he meet us outside?” she asked, laying a hand once again against his chest to steady him as he rested back against her.

Raistlin shook his head, “He is gone for now. The Tower is empty.” He stated and pulled his hood up over his head with shaky hands.

Yurielle thought for a moment, “It would be madness to let you pass through the Grove alone. Master of the Tower or no, you are in no condition for such a journey. If you fell off your horse along the path, you would never get back up.”

A small coughing fit seized him and she could feel how weak he had become. It was taking all of his effort to stay upright in the saddle. His strength would not last much longer.

She kicked the horse's side lightly and guided the beast forward, but instead of taking the way that would eventually go to the cursed Tower of High Sorcery that Raistlin had claimed as his own, Yurielle led the horse the opposite direction.

“Where...?”

“The inn I am staying at is only a few blocks from here,” she explained. “A red robe runs it. You can rest there with me until you regain your strength or your apprentice can come fetch you. Do you have any better ideas?” she asked when she felt him tense.

The archmage was silent for a few moments as he considered. Yurielle then felt him relax and he gave a small nod with his covered head. “Very well....” he said as he heard her whisper a word of magic, shielding them from unwanted eyes of the crowd.

Within a few moments they had turned down the side street and the Sage's Rest came into view. Yurielle lead the horse to the back of the building where a modest but comfortable stable waited. A young teenaged boy ran out, followed by a small dirt covered girl. They were siblings, that much was obvious.

“Yurielle!” the boy exclaimed then paused when he fully took in the scene before him.

“Rose go fetch your papa!” Yurielle commanded as she guided the horse into the open stable doors. “I need his strength and I need it NOW!”

The little girl's mouth snapped shut and she bolted down the short path up the wooden steps to the back of the inn. The boy looked after his sister then up at the two black robes on the horse's back as Yurielle guided the beast into one of the last remaining stalls.

“Come on Cirrus don't just stand there gawking,” Yurielle snapped at the youth. “Help me!”

The boy ran up and assisted the woman as she slowly slid her legs off the horse, her arms still around the mage trying in vain to keep him in the saddle. However, Raistlin had lapsed into unconsciousness at some point and without her behind him to steady him, the mage started to slip from the saddle himself. Yurielle tried to catch him but only succeeded in padding his descent with her own body.

Cirrus by this time had reached their side and he steadied the horse and guided the beast deeper into the stall so that it would not accidentally step on the two black robes that lay sprawled on the floor amongst the straw. Heavy foot falls could be heard now as Sarel arrived. “Black God's Yurielle!” the usually gentle man exclaimed. “What in the nine hells are you doing?! How can you bring HIM here?”

Yurielle by now had extracted herself from beneath the unconscious Raistlin and gently lay the man's head in the straw next to her. She placed her fingers on his neck and felt his fluttering pulse. “He is ill Sarel and cannot make the trip through the Grove.”

“He cannot rest here!” Sarel growled. “I will NOT house him.”

She tore her eyes from the fallen wizard and looked up at her friend. “Please Sarel! If you have any care for me as your friend. Please....”

The great man sighed, “What will my patrons say... what will my fellow red robes say?”

“No one need know...” she said softly. “I shielded us on our way here, only your children saw us enter your lot. Please Sarel, help me take him up to my room. I will watch over him until he is well. If not for me... then do it for the magic that binds us all.”

The great man growled in frustration. “Lunitari give me strength,” he prayed to the Goddess of the Red Moon. The one from whom all red, neutral magic came from. “I wash my hands of what may happen with this black robe, I only do this for the magic....”

“Thank you Sarel,” Yurielle whispered thankfully as the large man easily lifted the unconscious form of Raistlin Majere from his stable floor and carried him into the back of the inn. Ascending the back stairway from the kitchen he took him to Yurielle's room.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a little long! I hope it was as enjoyable as it was to write!


	5. The Sage's Rest

 

Yurielle slowly followed Sarel after she picked up Raistlin's staff from where it had clattered to the dirt floor of the stable next to her and held it carefully in her hands. She feared it would retaliate to her touch, but it was dark and seemed dormant. For some reason it was willing to be carried along beside its master. Following her red robed friend she helped him lay one of the most powerful archmages in the history of the world onto her modest bed at the edge of her room.

The large man glowered at the black robed figure then gave Yurielle a hard look. “I hope you know what you're doing Yurielle.... by all accounts, this man is wanted by the Conclave. I don't know the details, but he's dangerous and has committed heinous crimes in his unstoppable lust for power. He will destroy you if he wanted to my friend. You are a good soul Yurielle,” he said more softly. “You do not deserve the robes you wear. The Gods are cruel in their games with us mortals, but I only hope there is a reason for it. Perhaps...” his eyes went again to the still form of Raistlin. “Perhaps your light is what the darkness needs during these hard times...”

She couldn't stop the tears that fogged her vision at her friend's declaration. “I try Sarel....” her own eyes went to Raistlin. “I cannot abide needless suffering if there is something I can do to help. Even on one seemingly so lost...”

The great man nodded, “I will leave you alone then. As I said, my hands are clean of this. If he is to die, I have had no part in it. If he is to live, no part do I want in that as well. He merely lies here in a building, under the care of one of his order.”

Yurielle bowed as he exited, “Spoken as a true neutral follower. You are absolved of what happens here Sarel Starmantle. May your Goddess watch over you.”

With a huff the big man left her alone with the comatose man. Carefully setting the Staff of Magius near the bedside, Yurielle turned her attention back to her patient. Running her hand lightly over his forehead, she noted that he did indeed seem much warmer than he had before. A fever had set in. Retrieving the cloth from next to her fresh water basin she wet it and gently bathed his face with the cool water as she sat on the bedside with him.

“You're so young...” she said softly to nobody as she cooled his fevered skin and let herself gaze at his face, now relaxed and free of the hard cynicism she had seen earlier. She guessed he was barely thirty years old by now. He was the youngest ever to take the Test of High Sorcery and become a mage. At only twenty years old he had done it. Taken it and survived, but it had left him shattered and changed.

He had come out of his Test as a red robe. But a few years ago, during the end of the War of the Lance, he had changed his allegiance to the black robes. He had done so without the Conclaves consent and this had made him a renegade. One whom they had tried to punish or bring to trial. But Raistlin Majere was powerful and cunning. He had saved the Tower at Wayreth and therefore the Conclave owed him a debt. He used that to his advantage, just as he used everybody.

Yurielle had heard all of the stories. Raistlin Majere was a legend to everyone who used magic and all who went through the lessons of being a mage knew of this man who now lay in her bed. But she knew that so very few would ever see him like this. Sick and helpless, he was pushed to the limits of his physical form and she wondered how ill he had been even before she had met him. Surely this wasn't a sudden onset.

As she ruminated on his condition, his eyes fluttered open. Those strange gold orbs were unfocused for a moment but she watched as those hourglass shaped pupils contracted and settled on her. Once again Yurielle wondered what she looked like as a corpse.

“Hey there sunshine!” she offered him a dimpled smile.

“Where am I..?” he rasped and tried to sit up.

Her hand on his shoulder was more than enough to keep him pushed down on the soft surface of the feather and straw mattress. “You are in my room where I am staying. You needn't know where, only that you are safe. No one but the inn's owner and his family saw us. I made sure to shield us as we came here. The owner is a red robe and a dear friend of mine. He's letting me care for you here, but he washes his hands of you.” She sighed with a bit of annoyance, “Typical red, he only wants to maintain the balance and interfering more than what he already has is sending him into fits.”

Those glassy orbs regarded her silently.

Yurielle wet the cloth again and ran it over his forehead, trying very hard to ignore his eyes on her. “You've got a fever,” she explained softly. “I've heard you brew a tea for your cough. Tell me how and I will make you some.”

Raistlin's hands went to the pouches on his belt. Fumbling with the ties, he finally unhooked a small one before he handed it to her. “Just a pinch over hot water....”

She nodded and took it. Yurielle loved tea herself and Murin had made sure her room had a teapot near the small hearth. Checking that the maid had refilled the water, Yurielle pushed the kettle on its arm over to hang over the fire to heat. That done, she turned back to find the archmage trying to undo his boots.

Going to help him he all but snarled at her.

“Oh knock it off!” she scolded him, her fists going to her hips. “There is no shame in accepting help you bull-headed shut in! Well, perhaps _you_ think there is from everything that I've heard about you. But you're a fool. I've always thought so.”

He regarded her silently, once again that look of confusion and shock on his face as she ignored him and unbuckled the fine leather boots from his calves and pulled them from his feet.

“Take your belt off and I'll help you out of your robes. You'll rest more comfortable that way,” again when he hesitated she rolled her eyes. “Or sleep in ten pounds of heavy velvet. I care not. And you're precious spell components are the same I carry or are you blind to the color of my own robes Master of the Past and Present?”

By this time the kettle had started to whistle and she hurried over to it and poured the steaming water into a mug then added a dab of the bitter herbs from his proffered pouch. The room filled with the fragrance of marjoram and other spices. She finally understood the other scents that clung to him like a faint musk.

Returning to his side she found that he hadn't moved an inch to acquiesce to her request. He still quietly watched her with those odd eyes of his. She was beginning to feel either irritated or unsettled by that gaze, she couldn’t decide which. One moment Yurielle felt bare before his judgment while the next she felt like she was something new and strange that he had never seen before. Like a specimen under glass, something to be inspected.

It was starting to make her head spin! No wonder why people didn't like this man, he was a pain in the neck and obviously not interested in simple and polite etiquette. People just didn't stare like he did.

So Yurielle stared right back as she helped him sit up against the headboard.

Raistlin took the tea from her that she offered once he had settled against the headboard and sipped, not waiting for it to cool. Their eyes warred with one another, neither letting up until finally a crease marred the golden skin between his eyes. “What?” he asked, voice for once steady and curt after the soothing tea.

“You stare at me so I only think it fair I return the favor!” she stated, letting a hint of irritation seep into her voice.

He blinked, “I do _not_ stare.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh? Then let's call it a bad habit of your own. You do stare. A LOT!”

He had the decency to look abashed and he stubbornly tore his eyes from her to watch the nearby fire as he slowly sipped his tea.

The woman left his side and went to prepare her own tea, peppermint with a touch of honey, before sitting in one of the chairs next to the table that stood in the middle of the small room between the bed and the fireplace. The only other furniture was a small wardrobe opposite the bed and foot locker at the end of it. A tiny doorway off to the side was where the privy and bath sat. This inn was one of the few in the city with modern comforts with step above the usual chamber pot and only a cold water sink to bathe in.

The small room was sectioned with a large porcelain tub and a smaller room with a hole on a porcelain box that lead down into pipes that exited into the city's sewer. Small levelers could be pulled near the privy to allow fresh water to carry away wastes and the tub could be filled with water from a large cistern that sat above the room in the ceiling. Hot rocks could be added to a part of the cistern to heat the bath water. It was a marvel of ingenuity and very few but the wealthy could afford such comforts. It was worth every extra gold and silver that Yurielle had saved up all year to stay here.

She sighed lightly, letting the refreshing flavor of her beverage invigorate her limbs and re-energize her mind with its crispness. As she enjoyed her tea, and he studiously ignored her, Yurielle took the time to pick through the books and journals she had on the table. She clicked her tongue. “Dammit... I left my bag back at the Library.”

Yurielle then looked up to find him setting his small cup on the nightstand near him, he had sat up fully in the bed and was working to remove his component belt. Going over to his side she took it from him and draped it across the chair that she had just vacated. He made no move to remove his robes as he then rolled to his side away from her.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked.

He shook his head, the movement was small.

She retrieved an extra blanket form the foot locker and draped it over him. “I just want this on record,” she teased softly. “This is the weirdest vacation away from Wayreth yet.”

 

*******

 

Raistlin Majere rarely slept well. A light sleeper, he woke at the smallest sound. When he did manage sleep, his dreams were always dark and troubled.

Today however he dreamed of braided auburn hair, of a long slender neck and of indigo eyes behind a curtain of dark lashes. Dimples flashes at him next to pouting lips and a voice sang to him. He watched the woman softly caress a book and for the first time he felt envious of an inanimate object. Watching in fascination as this seemingly harmless girl dispelled a difficult trap bound into that book. He stood enthralled by her hourglass and the sound they made together as she summoned sand to track the time.

The irony was not lost on him.

Surely the gods were mocking him. An hourglass was _his_ symbol. Knowledge was _his_ domain.

Yet here was a beautiful woman that did not rot in his eyes with a voice that made his veins sing, and bearing the name of an angel of light and knowledge all wrapped in dark black robes.

She had wit and a sharp tongue. Craved understanding and had an obvious affinity to powerful magic. This woman did not bat an eyelash at his appearance, instead seemed fascinated by it and had even offered to help him.

She had called herself a curse breaker.

Surely the gods were mocking him.

Astinus has said the timeline had changed.... what did he mean?

Through his foggy dreams he tried to remember what he had set out to do but all he saw were indigo eyes glittering at him. Forcing them from his mind he tried again, fingers grasping the darkness and pulling at it in a vice like grip. He was trying to do something... had went to the Library that day for a purpose....

His golden fingers tore at the velvety blackness and it fell away like ribbons. Like black robes falling from porcelain shoulders he froze as the fabric fell around him. The woman lay there next to him, naked and unmoving. Blood welling from dreadful wounds and mixed with the blood of a great five headed dragon, each head was a different color. The serpentine necks were woven around the woman’s corpse and around them all was a desert of nothingness. A gray sky with a reddish gray ground all void of sound and life.

There was nothing but emptiness around him and inside of him, only a void that made his soul tremble in horror. Raistlin looked down at himself to find that he was a snake eating his own tail, like a glittering never ending hourglass forever to turn on its own head.

The torment and loneliness would be his never ending.

 

 


	6. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the end of the chapter for a special treat!

Raistlin started awake with a small gasp, finding that he was curled in on himself on the edge of a strange bed. His fists were clenched against his chest as if to hold in his racing heart. Blood pounded in his ears and he could feel the telltale rattle in his lungs, threatening to overtake him.

Forcing himself to calm, he let his eyes adjust to the room around him as he began to sort through the fragments of what was memory and what was dream. This new place was dark and shadowed, the fire in the hearth having burned low so that its dim light cast long shadows across the floor. By his estimate, he had slept the whole day and well into the night.

Hourglass eyes immediately focused on the chairs and table that sat just a few feet away between the low fire and the bed in which he lay. There, in one of the chairs wrapped in a blanket, sat Yurielle. She was slumped against the table, having fallen asleep working over her books. The blanket that she had laid over him before he fell asleep was now loosely draped around her shoulders, showing that she had removed her own heavy robes. A quick glance around the room revealed them hanging in the open wardrobe across the way next to a small window trimmed with bright curtains.

Beneath the patchwork quilt he saw that she wore only a light blue linen shift of simple and plain make. Her upper body lay half propped up with one slender white arm against the table, one leg was tucked underneath of her, while the other leg arched out in front of her. In her semi reclined position, her leg rested at an angle from him, awarding him a side view of her slender leg.

Yurielle had impossibly long legs.

The woman had been right. He did stare at her! Raistlin realized this as his eyes followed up the line of her body to observe the long angle of her bare neck and shoulder.

How could he not stare when all he ever saw was rotting flesh? Try as he might, since first finding her beneath the Great Library within the darkness, his eyes only wanted to rest on her. In that moment Raistlin realized how tired he was of death and decay.

How tired he was of so very much...

The archmage ran a hand over his eyes trying to banish the suddenly weak thoughts and feelings. Raistlin had long ago accepted his curse and had turned it instead to a strength.

Beauty was only a distraction - that was his litany he repeated to himself over and over when he found himself longing to see the world as he once had.

Even as he reminded himself of this, his betrayer eyes fell on her again.

All of a sudden the arm that she was propping herself up on comically dropped out from under her. With a jerk and a dark oath that would make a sailor blush, Yurielle snapped awake.

To cover the fact that he had been staring at her yet again he stirred as well, as if she had woken him up.

“Sorry...” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “I didn't mean to disturb you. I guess I fell asleep.”

His lungs rumbled slightly and he coughed quietly into his sleeve. She instantly went to the dying fire and set the kettle to heat as she stoked the coals. Adding more small logs she spoke a word of magic so they caught fire and flared, filling the room with warmth and light.

Raistlin's eyes widened, she had left the blanket behind.

Black gods she _did_ have long legs his eyes observed as she worked with her back to him. Silently he studied those legs and her perfectly formed body that matched. Robes kept many things hidden and his imagination could never have conjured up the shapes he witnessed as she prepared his tea and relight the fire. That plain shift offered little in hiding those lean legs, gently curving hips, lithe body and firm supple breasts as the light of the fire shown through the thread bare fabric, casting her silhouette in sharp relief against the fires light.

Raistlin found that the room was suddenly far too warm for his liking.

As if reading his thoughts she must have suddenly realized the improper state of her undress. From the bed he could see the blush bloom across her pale skin as she quickly retrieved a lighter dressing robe that hung next to her usual one inside the wardrobe.

“You're staring again...” she stated as she hurriedly tied the robe around herself.

“Bad habit...” he heard himself say.

She stood near the fire, tapping a long finger on her crossed arms as if willing the water to heat faster. The dark robe she now wore hid her body from Raistlin, but the image was burned into his eyes.

Finally the water began to steam and she prepared his tea the same as before. Coming to his side, he sat up as she neared.

“You look better,” she offered as he took the tea from her. Hesitantly Yurielle reached a hand up and brushed her fingers lightly against his forehead. Raistlin flinched ever so slightly at the touch but didn't comment.

“Warm but not feverish,” she nodded. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” he said between sips. Again he stubbornly stared at the fire, trying very hard to forget her practically naked silhouette.

Yurielle startled the archmage by sitting on the edge of the bed next to him, jostling him out of his thoughts. “You're always warm aren't you?” When he didn't reply she continued, “I'm obviously not referring to your sunny personality. Your skin... it gives off its own heat. Do you feel its warmth?”

“No,” he replied coarsely. “I'm nearly always cold.”

Yurielle chewed her lip in thought, drawing his eyes back to her face at the action. He watched the nervous habit as her white teeth worried at soft flesh. “I have a theory about that,” she said, her eyes refocusing and meeting his.

She made no comment of his staring this time.

“You have many of those,” he sneered into his mug.

“That I do,” she gave him a smile, ignoring his snide attitude. “Want to hear it?”

He gave a low sigh and took a long sip of tea. “I have a dreadful feeling I have no choice in the matter. But know that whatever you've found, I've already found it,” he said after his obnoxiously long sip.

She glared at him affronted, “Perhaps. But sometimes two heads are better than one Raistlin Majere. I'm confident _something_ can be done for you.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head as he finished his tea, “I said that I'm not interested! Even if there _were_ something to help me, to what end?”

“How much of you needs fixing?”

Hourglass eyes snapped back open and he met her gaze, she was teasing him and he was suddenly irritated with her. “You think _you_ can fix me? Me, the damaged man who was never meant to survive his Test?” He leaned forward and stopped just inches from her face, his breath hot on her skin. “You can't,” he stated harshly. “I survive because of _me_. No god or mortal holds any power over _me_.”

“But which are you Raistlin Majere? God or mortal?” the question seemed pulled from her and she pressed her lips together, both knowing she didn't mean to utter the words.

Raistlin looked at her but his eyes seemed unfocused. The dream came back to him then. He now remembered what his plans were going to be. Only a day ago, he wanted to become a god himself.

Astinus had said the timeline had suddenly shifted and his dream... Was it the future? Or what would have been? “That is the question...” he whispered softly, almost inaudible. “...isn’t it?”

Raistlin's hand went to his chest, to where the void he felt in the dream still consumed him. It was a gnawing hunger turning in on itself, rolling endlessly inside of him. This emptiness that grew as he grew in power, fueling his obsession but also his terror. His golden hand unconsciously clawed there as he stared into the dancing fire, trying to sort through his thoughts.

A soft hand over his nearly made him jump out of his skin and he froze, alarmed. Warmth spread through his chest again, quieting the ache. His hourglass eyes were round as coins as Yurielle leaned in closer to him and lay her ear next to their hands against his chest. “Breathe Raistlin,” she commanded.

Raistlin sucked in a shuddering lungful of air, unaware that he was holding his breath.

Yurielle kept her ear pressed there as he forced himself to breathe. She listened to one side then moved to the other half of his chest. After what felt like an eternity for him she finally sat up. “Your lungs are severely damaged... Do you have pneumonia often?”

“More than I care to count,” he said when he could find his voice.

Her brow furrowed, “Most of your lungs don't seem to be functional.” She suddenly got up and went to the wardrobe.

Raistlin watched her, his hand going back to his chest. That emptiness had returned with a vengeance in her absence. He scowled to himself, not liking the implications of this in context with what he could remember from his dream.

Yurielle opened the other door opposite her robe and pulled out a large satchel, taking it to the desk she started digging through it. From the bed Raistlin could hear clinking of jars as she muttered to herself. He could snippets of words like, “Willow... rosemary... orange.... petals... no where's the... oh I forgot about this one...” After several minutes she had a handful of small tincture jars and dried herbs on the table next to her as well as a small mortar and pestle. Last she pulled out a larger empty jar with dropper.

With an effort he pulled himself off the bed and came to the table and sat opposite her in the second chair. Eyeballing the array of things she had brought out, Raistlin recognized most and knew their properties. He had tried endless combinations of herbs to help his lungs. So many attempts and failures he had tried over the years and they all had ended in frustration. The original tea recipe from Par-Salian of the Conclave was the only thing that eased his cough, but nothing else seemed to heal his lungs.

“I've tried most of these,” he picked up a jar to inspect it. “They don't work.”

Yurielle eyed him harshly and snatched the glass out of his hand, “Are you a master herbalist?”

“I've consulted with many,” he shot back with a hard scowl.

“Well you haven't consulted with me. Most don't realize how certain herbs need a catalyst or complement. The universe is balance; we wizards know that more than most. All things are a dance Raistlin Majere,” she explained, her attention going back to her jars, “all things have a song to sing and all need their correct partner to make the music work.” Her eyes met his once more, “Now sit and be silent or go back to bed. I don't need you hovering.”

Ignoring the fact that she was bossing him around, Raistlin let her words sank slowly into his brain and he caught a fleeting glimpse of her in a new light. Why she was the way she was, how she could sing and laugh in the face of darkness. She took opposite actions to nullify that which would easily kill her. This woman's view and use of the magic was new and strange to him and it intrigued him greatly.

Again the archmage wondered who she was and why the gods mocked him so.

They sat in silence for many minutes and Raistlin watched as she blended and ground dry herbs together and carefully filled the large jar with drops of various tinctures. She did it in a particular order and he was quickly lost in her method.

Finally adding the dried leaves to the wet tincture she applied the dropper and closed the jar. She once again flicked the glass like she had her hourglass, making it ring. The sound vibrated through the room and she again used that voice to harmonize with it. Every hair on Raistlin's body stood on end.

“This needs to steep for two weeks in constant sun or moonlight. Preferably the white moon, no offense to our sweet Nuitari, but he's not very good at healing,” she handed him the jar. “On those nights the black moon is full keep this in the light of a silver candle. Once its ready, strain it and take three drops under your tongue twice daily. It's going to taste like ass but there's no help for it.”

He couldn't stop it, after hearing her voice resonate around him, Raistlin's head was giddy and he chuckled. It was low and rasping, but one filled with amusement. They looked at one another, surprise in both of their eyes.

Raistlin cleared his throat, “Thank you... I will do as you say. Only because I am fascinated by your methods. I have never seen anyone treat the magic the way you do....”

“It's the only way I can explain my existence,” she said quietly. “I've always been a contradiction. Once I started exploring that in all things, that is when I truly found my power.”

“How do you not wear the white robes Yurielle?” he asked her, for he found that he truly wanted to know.

She shrugged those lean shoulders, during her work one side of her robe and shift had slid down off her neck to reveal white skin beneath the fabric. “I play in the darkness...” she lowered her eyes but he had glimpsed the pain in them. “So others do not have too.”

Her reply was powerful and it struck him in the gut.

It was Yurielle now that cleared her throat as she began putting away the herbs and jars back into her kit, treating each like a delicate child. Raistlin noted her reverence for every item and it reminded him of his own care towards his tools. For the first time in his life he dearly hoped her mixture helped him.

“Are you hungry?” her voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “You need to keep your strength up. I'll go find us something from the kitchen. I know where they keep the good blackberry brandy... I find that I need a drink.” She didn't wait for his reply before quickly leaving the room, quietly closing the door to the hall with a soft click.

Raistlin sat alone in the stillness of the room. Now that she was gone it was strangely empty and dark, as if her presence had brought life to its existence and without her there was nothing. Rolling the small jar she had given him in his hand his eyes rested on the table's surface at her books and papers that were sprawled across it. She had fallen asleep here in this spot and Raistlin found that he was curious to know what she had been working on before sleep took her unawares.

Opening the small leather book, one that he guessed she had hand made herself, for it was slightly uneven, the binding loose, his eyes were greeted with strange symbols and writing. He stared at it, turning it every which way. It was written in nothing that he had ever seen before. Master of many languages, it was gibberish to his expert gaze. It looked to just be nonsensical symbols and squiggles.

He spoke a quiet spell of translation, one he rarely had to resort to using. The effort drained him slightly and the writings remained as they were. Frowning he turned to the papers beneath, the loose leaflets were neatly stacked, their edges held down with tiny rocks and crystals. Small charcoal writing sticks rolled out from under the book with the weird writing as he lifted it for a better view of the parchment beneath.

Exquisite and detailed drawings of all kinds greeted his eyes as he fingered through the pages.

Yurielle had recreated plants, scenes of everyday life, buildings, animals, studies of anatomy and movement. Everything and everyone perfectly recreated in charcoal and inks. Notes of the same gibberish were written next to many of the images. There was a full page drawn of a beautiful gypsy dancer, the woman’s silks seemed to twirl off the page at him. The next was of a mother with a baby at her breast, the warmth and tenderness nearly touched the archmage. A whole section of horses and cats and their parts and movement, then roses and flower petals, bees and their wings, and how the wind moved and changed things.

Near the bottom of the stack, he found whole pages of eyes. Every one of them stared up at him with their own expressions. She had mostly only drawn one eye in her studies. The eye of men, women, children... old and young, Yurielle had captured every single one and recreated the looks they had given her.

He recognized many of those looks, hate, revulsion, disappointment. For he had also been on the receiving end of such looks his whole life and because of this, he felt as if these eyes were all looking at him.

Turning to the next page he paused, for his own eyes stared up at him, unmistakable with their hourglass pupils. Yurielle had drawn both of them, not once but twice. The first was his usual hard sneering look of contempt, the second was... somehow... kinder? Had he really looked at her like that? He must have, for like all the others, his eyes were captured in absolute perfection, down to every last detail and shine of light.

At that moment the door opened and Yurielle returned. Raistlin let the leaflets fall back against the table with a flutter.

She gave him a tiny scowl, “That's personal property mage. I don't go digging through your things.”

 _'Don't you?'_ Raistlin thought to himself then ran a finger over the strange book, “I don't know what they're teaching at the Tower in Wayreth these days. But it seems the Conclave have taken a different approach to writing.”

Yurielle smirked as she set a small tray down opposite him. It was mostly full of bread with a small pile of soft cheeses and fruit. Lastly she set crock of cool cider that beaded with sweat next to the tray. “The writing is of my own making. Well.... mine and my sisters,” she added and poured two small glasses of the cider.

“Sister? What sort of trouble did you get into to require your own language?” he asked, interested.

“The kind that twins get into...” she handed him a mug of cider. “The only kind of trouble that the same person in two bodies _can_ get into. But you'd know all about that... ”

“Twins?” he breathed, unable to keep the shock from his voice.

“She's dead,” she said curtly, cutting off any further questions. Yurielle took a swig from a second smaller cup on the tray, he caught the whiff of the blackberry brandy that she had mentioned. Yurielle threw her head back and emptied it in one gulp. Her face turned red and tears stung her eyes. “Black testicles he brews this strong,” she wheezed when she could finally draw breath.

“Go on, eat up,” she indicated the food. “I made a harrowing delve into my friend's secret larder for that fruit. He'll be put out with me even more than he already is when he finds I've taken it. Do you want more tea?” she asked as he picked at the fruit, deep in thought. He only ate a few pieces, chewing slowly as she left the table.

Yurielle began to prepare his tea without waiting for a reply as if she needed something to do in the silence. She was strangely restless Raistlin noted. “You have a great talent,” he lifted her journal away again to reveal her drawings.

“A gift and my own curse you might say,” she said, making as if she was going to take the stack away from him but he flattened them to the table beneath his palm.

“How so?”

“My memory is perfect.... sometimes I must draw in order to get things out of my head,” she said icily. Leaving the stack of drawing she instead gathered up her journal and charcoal sticks and returned them to her satchel. “If I don't, I easily become overwhelmed with what I've seen.”

“A perfect memory?” he eyed the pages beneath his hand, remembering what he had all seen on them. He flicked through them and stopped on a small cottage, it was covered in ivy and vines. It looked quaint and cozy, like something out of a happy story.

“The home of the old woman who took me off the streets,” she pointed at the front walkway. “She grew the most beautiful flowers... It was burned to the ground shortly after she sent me to the tower. She did not survive.”

The kettle had started to whistle and she attended to it.

Raistlin flipped to the gypsy dancer when she returned. “My sister and I watched her dance for hours at the local fair when we were very young. We had never seen a woman move like her before. Silks flowing around her, her hips swaying...” a small wistful smile touched her lips. “We were awed by how her movement was a magic all its own and held everyone under her spell. We wanted to be that beautiful and graceful when we grew up.... ”

“She never got the chance? Your twin....”

“.... No...” she whispered and set his tea before him.

He flipped through more pages and came to the woman with the babe.

“Beautiful sight isn't it....” she said softly. “I had been taken by my Master to a village to visit the locals. We were housed with this family for a week. I remembered thinking how beautiful it would be to have a babe of my own one day. I became so enamored with the idea that I fell behind on my lessons, Master did not approve, she liked to use the switch on me if I disobeyed. Months later the plague ravaged the town, decimating the population. I heard that both that woman and child were claimed. I cried myself to sleep for weeks after finding out...”

Raistlin listened to her story with a cold fascination and detached dread. The images were all beautiful, but so far they were all tied to a painful memory. Flipping randomly he fell on a picture of a handsome young man, surely a love interest, for there were other images of hands and studies of various body parts and their proportions. Nothing crude or full on nude, but highly detailed.

She blushed slightly, “I know what you're thinking, but the images are not of the same man. I never learned his name,” she indicated the face portrait. “I saw him at an autumn festival that I was once allowed to go to. He smiled at me and had asked me to dance with him. But I was too shy...” She sighed softly then, “Looking back.... I should have danced with him, he had gentle eyes and an easy smile. I regret not getting to know him....”

Her hand went to the other drawings of body parts. “The others are corpses I studied to learn anatomy. They were perfection, even in death. Men and woman, children, elderly. I block their faces from my mind but...” he let her flip through the next few pages, each showing various other body parts, some were cut open revealing bones, arteries and organs for examination. “But I can never erase what I've seen within.”

Raistlin nodded, he had done similar studies himself on both corpses of humans and animals to better understand the body. But he had never had the pleasure of studying at the tower like she. So his observations were usually on mangled, half bloated bodies that were well within the grip of decay.

He flipped through them again and landed on the face of a young girl. But instead of a beautiful scene, the face was twisted in horror, eyes wide, hair flayed around her head. She looked like a young Yurielle. Raistlin looked up at her questioningly.

“Ariallah....” she said softly, tears rimmed her eyes as she slowly sank into the chair opposite. “My twin. The last image of her alive. It's all I have and it is forever burned into my mind....”

He watched her, growing dread in his gullet.

Lost in the memory, she continued, “We were crossing a frozen river. She heard the cracking first and flung me away. The ice broke and she was suddenly gone.”

Raistlin tore his eyes from her and gazed at the image, able to see it in his mind, so perfectly had Yurielle captured the instant her twin had pushed her to safety before falling through the ice herself.

Yurielle took a slow breath. “I found her body downstream, crushed and broken on the rocks. We were eight, orphans for many years by that point. Nothing but filthy street rats starving and trying to find food. It was my idea to try the other side of the river... the old woman found me hours later. Half frozen, I was nearly dead myself. She had to pry my sister from my frost bitten fingers,” squeezing her eyes shut, a tear fell. “She took me in and nursed me back to health. Quickly she saw that I was different, that perhaps I had an aptitude for magic. She gave all of her savings to enroll me in the tower. I never understood why she did this.” She tried to shrug her shoulders but it was a halfhearted attempt. “After she died, it was only my own skill that partly paid for my studies. Mixing potions and poultices to be used by the Conclave as well as translating and scribing.”

Raistlin was still staring at the image of her dead twin. The reality of her story thrummed a deep, forgotten cord inside of him. He had come to hate and despise his own twin brother over the years. Caramon Majere was everything that Raistlin was not. But through his life Raistlin couldn't deny the bond that yet still existed between them. One he still felt even across the distance that separated them, to have that suddenly ripped away as a child... He couldn't imagine where his life would be at that age without his twin. Raistlin eyed her now with new respect.

Yurielle turned from him and quickly wiped her eyes. “I haven't told anyone about my sister....” she sniffed. “Dammit Majere... I didn't bring enough brandy for something like this,” she half laughed but it came out more of a sob as she stood back up, still wiping her eyes.

Carefully Raistlin gathered up the leaflets in a neat stack then flipped the edges of the open leather binding over the papers and tied the string, securing them inside. The archmage then slowly got to his feet and came to her side where she had stopped near the window. Holding the leather bundle out to her he said softly, “Thank you for helping me this night Yurielle. I owe you a great debt for the kindness you've shown me. I will not lie... I am not used to it.”

Yurielle took the leather case that held her drawings, pressing it against her chest as another tear escaped her eye to run down her face.

Before Raistlin could think twice or stop himself he had reached out and with a slender fingertip, caught the droplet, and wiped it away. “I am sorry that you have suffered the loss of your twin,” his voice was strangely comforting as his hand rested along the side of her face. Warm palm along her jaw and thumb gently playing at the corner of her mouth where her tears had left the skin damp.

Her eyes snapped up to his, they were wide at his nearness, surprised at his sudden gentleness.

“You were so young...” Raistlin was saying as if he wasn't even aware that he was speaking. “Despite the differences that I have with my brother... No matter what stands between us now...”He shook his head slowly, “If I had lost him when you lost your twin, I would not have survived it.”

Raistlin swallowed hard and couldn't continue for he was suddenly distracted by the feel of her skin against his thumb, her breath hitching against his skin and by the blush that bloomed across those cheeks that held a sparse dusting of freckles.

“Your tea is getting cold,” Yurielle whispered, those soft pink lips caressed the edge of his thumb.

“So it is...” he replied, the sound low in his throat. With great effort Raistlin released her and went back to his chair. Tearing his gaze from her he focused instead on his tea and took a piece of bread, added honey and forced more food into himself. The archmage insisted on telling himself the lightheaded spell he felt right now was because he had not eaten in many hours. Perhaps it had been a few days since he had eaten, he didn't remember. All Raistlin _could_ think about in that moment were those lips. He couldn't recall ever touching anything so soft.

Slowly Yurielle stirred and returned her drawings to the satchel alongside her journal. She cleared the rest of the table of the few other objects before sitting down herself and finishing what he didn't touch. A clock tower chimed somewhere in the city. It was midnight.

“It's getting late,” she rubbed her eyes. “If I'm to be functional at all tomorrow, I need some sleep.”

Raistlin nodded, “I have taken your bed from you. But now I feel recovered enough to return to my Tower.”

“Don't be foolish. You may feel better but it's far too cold outside. You shouldn't get chilled right now,” she said sharply and stood. Going to the bed she pulled the coverlet down. “If you promise not to kick me in my sleep, you'll stay right here where I can keep an eye on you while you rest.”

Raistlin stared at her incredulously as she shrugged off her dressing robe and climbed into the far side of the bed. Sitting there in the covers she began to undo the weave of braid around her head.

Letting the long strands free, they fell around her shoulders in a cascade of warm reddish brown, the tips near golden in the fire light. Running her fingers through the tangles she gave him a meaningful look. “Raistlin... You're doing that bad habit of yours again. Grow up and get in bed. Your delicate sensibilities are safe with me.”

It took him longer than he would have liked to realize she was bossing him around again. He was trying to get over his shock and the feeling that he was once again a confused adolescent. Eventually he undid the buckles and ties of his thick robes with hands he forced to be still. Even as he did this, he couldn't help but steal glances as she undid her hair. Red was one of the colors that his curse had dulled the most. Now, seeing it in her hair, set aflame by the firelight that was now at his back, he felt like a moth pulled to flame.

Finally free of the plush and heavy material of his own black robes, Raistlin draped the fabric across the back of one of the chairs. The golden runes of power that were sewn along the hems flashed for a moment as the threads caught the light.

Now free of his robe, Yurielle saw that he wore a simple black tunic and black trousers beneath. Barefoot he padded over to the bed and lowered himself down on its edge opposite her.

Yurielle gave him a delicate smile at his shyness and Raistlin felt himself flush at those dimples. “Is the Master of the Past and the Present blushing?” she asked nearly teasing, but there was also shock to her voice. She gave him a small chuckle but stopped when she saw him tense and make to pull away. Quickly her hand shot out and took hold of his arm to halt him. “I do not mock you Raistlin. I laugh at myself that you would give any thought to me. If you indeed are blushing, then I guess I'm flattered is all.”

She chuckled again, shaking her head at the thought of what she looked like as a corpse to his eyes. A cascade of hair fell down her shoulder at the small movement. “Listen to me, nervously prattle on like a school girl. I'm tired and you've wrung my emotions through the grinder tonight...” her hands rubbed again at her eyes. The act seemed to be another nervous habit of hers. She did look weary to him.

“I didn't pay for this bed to have someone else sleep in it. But you need your rest and I hate sleeping on the floor.” She played with the edge of the blanket as she spoke, not meeting his gaze. “But... if it would ease you, know that I've never been with a man Raistlin,” she said softly. “It wasn't my intention to give you that impression. I'm no harlot... and am not in the habit of inviting strangers into my bed. I'm afraid that sometimes my words make me seem bolder than I really am. I apologize if I gave the wrong idea with my actions.”

His eyes swept over her as she sat there next to him, she was absentmindedly folding the corner of sheet in her hands, not looking at him. In her inattentiveness he was able to study her form. She was dressed in a simple linen shift, hair a halo of glowing auburn, skin soft and radiant, her full pink lips and tired eyes were still vulnerable from her crying.

Yurielle was a lovely creature Raistlin decided. And he very much didn't believe that she was untouched by any man, being as alluring as she was that even he felt himself react to her. The very thought she was as untested in that area as him was almost laughable.

But Raistlin felt himself ease at her words, for at the very least, they seemed sincere.

Drawing his legs under the blanket he lay down, not wanting to think about this any longer. “Sleep then fair Yurielle. But, I can't make the promise I won't kick you,” he stated. “I shared a bed with my own twin once upon a time. Kicking was the only way I survived,” he told her as he rolled away from her. Closing his eyes, he tried very hard to fall back to sleep.

The archmage could feel her settle down beside him under the covers, her foot lightly brushed the back of his leg as she got comfortable in the cramped bed next to him.

Gods it was going to be a long night.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drawing is of my own making. I knew that when I wrote the chapter I'd want to attempt to draw Raistlin's eyes so I prodded myself to do it today! It's been ages since I've drawn eyes but I'm happy with how it turned out though some details got lost in scanning. Drawing emotions is hard, but I think I somewhat managed what I was setting out to do. Hope you enjoyed the chapter and stay tuned for more!


	7. The Black Moon

Mercifully, Raistlin was able to find sleep that night and woke up to the knowledge that he had rested well. His fever was gone, his lungs seemed calm today and strength had returned to his body. He awoke before Yurielle, just as the sky began to lighten outside.

Turning, he found her curled up next to him, her head resting on her arm, having given him the only pillow. She was still fast asleep. In this dim light the long strands of her hair looked like cracked lines of blood against her pale skin. The freckles that lightly dotted her flesh were like dark little stars in the inverted sky of white. She was delicate in sleep, serene in his gaze, like something out of his beauty starved imagination.

Suddenly, thoughts of the fever dream he had earlier forced its way into his mind, shattering the stillness her visage offered him. He thought of how her wounded corpse lay intertwined with the Dark Goddess Takhisis, of how her mortal blood had pooled with that of the Lady of Dragons.

Was it a warning? What did she have to do with the evil goddess? Was she being used? Or had she willingly come into his life as a pawn? His brow creased, for he realized suddenly that he knew very little of the woman beside him, this strange creature that didn't seem real.

But Takhisis, he had dealt with that goddess in the past. She was not above the most wretched and despicable acts to get what she wanted. Crafty and cunning, she used anything to get what she thought was hers. Was this just another game she was playing on him? He couldn't help but wonder...

But in the dream he had also seemingly become that which he had sought. He had become a god, conquered the pantheon and ruled over a cold desert. But at what cost? Was this woman to be a sacrifice? He thought for a moment, entertaining this dark line of thought. Perhaps she didn't have anything to do with the goddess, perhaps her death was needed to kill the god. Or perhaps she was needed to open the gates to the Abyss? The then the memory of loneliness came back to him, as did that gnawing emptiness within him.

Raistlin decided then that he needed more information. He was abruptly aware of how much he had been distracted by her. A man of rigid discipline, Raistlin knew he had wasted far too much time as it was. It was time to get back to his ambitions.

Perhaps, for now, she could be useful to him he mused. She was intelligent and possessed a picture perfect mind. But she was a mage of his own order even though it made absolutely no sense. She wore the black robes, there had to be a reason besides her innocent explanation.

He thought about her words again. She did so, wore the dark robes, so that others would not have too. What did that MEAN?!

There were far too many questions and Raistlin found that he had little time to sit and sort them through. She was a mystery certainly, and he could use her until he had no further need of her, like he had with every other person in his life.

For some reason though, that thought felt strange to him and he decided against it immediately. No he wouldn't use her, she was too smart for that he knew. Perhaps using her played right into his vision... he simply didn't have enough information to understand right now.

It was time to leave.

Raistlin carefully crept out of bed without disturbing her and dressed in his robes. Silently sliding his boots on he then rehung his belt around himself. He took his staff from where it rested against the wall, suddenly giving thought to the fact that someone must have carried it up here. His eyes darted to her sleeping form. No one could touch the staff but those he had deemed able too.

That, or the staff had decided for itself. That alone spoke volumes to the mage. If the Staff of Magius considered her worthy, then perhaps there really was more to this girl.

Raistlin returned to the table and gathered up the jar of tincture she had prepared for him. Placing it in one of his pouches he then reattached the pouch that contained the herbs for his tea and, reaching into another, he pulled out a slip of paper.

Taking a moment to scrawl out a few sentences he took one last glance at the woman who did not rot in his gaze, wondering if he would ever see her again. Shrugging his shoulders, he supposed it didn't matter. Not in the grand scheme of things.

His message written, he silently left the room like a shadow of darkness to return to his tower.

 

***

 

Yurielle didn't sleep in quite so late this day. She awoke with a start just as the sun fully crested over the horizon. It had been only a few hours after Raistlin had already returned to his tower to set his plans into motion.

Sitting up in the now half empty bed, her eyes scanned the room and instantly saw the small folded paper on the table. Going to it she opened it to find written in neat flowing script,

 

_Sleep well dear Yurielle. I thank you again for your care, long has it been since this black heart has known kindness._

_I do hope that we will meet again soon._

_In your debt,_

_~ Raistlin Majere_

_P.S. Let it be known that it is not I who kicks in their sleep, but you!_

 

 

“I do NOT!” she crumpled the note in her hand but a smile ghosted across her face.

Hurrying she then bathed and readied herself, for the darkness of the Great Library called to her.

 

***

 

Yurielle came to the Library later that morning and found the crypt below the building empty. She felt no presence in the shadows like she had the day before when he had silently observed her. Returning to her studies she spent the entire day there alone.

As well as the next.

On that second day, she stayed as late as she dared. But finally it was time for Yurielle to return the tomes to their rightful homes and make her way back to the Sage's Rest. She wasn't all that surprised that he had not appeared. But she also couldn’t help but be even just slightly worried that something had happened to him on his way back to his tower. Maybe he did indeed fall off his horse... She could see it in her mind's eye, the ghouls in the Shoikan Grove ripping him apart... she shuddered at the thought.

“Stop it,” she scolded herself as she began to darken the orbs for the last time this trip. “He's the strongest mage of this age. He's probably off doing something evil with his time instead of spending it with you and your silliness....” But still, a part of her couldn't help but be disappointed at his absence.

She found the man intriguing, if not slightly annoyed with his staring habit. There seemed to be far more to the man known as Raistlin Majere than what most stories told. She would have liked to have spent more time with him.

But, then again, to her slight irritation, she had found herself constantly doodling his eyes when her thoughts wandered; he was a distraction she didn't need. She had work to do for the Conclave and she needed to return to Wayreth as soon as possible. Fascinating curse or no, he had made it very clear that he didn't want her help. Breaking a god curse was just something she had to put on the back of her mind for now.

Turning to the darkness she smiled at the friends she was leaving behind for yet another year. For tomorrow, she was to spend the day in the city and the day after, she would make the journey back to Wayreth. “Sleep well my pretties. I will return again when I may. Until then, keep the bookworms away and stay dry! Farewell!”

With that she exited the lower chambers and made her way up to the surface. The air was chilled, for the sun had begun to set and she walked with her hands in her sleeves to keep them warm. She kept her hood drawn over her bowed head as she made her way down the near empty corridors on her way to the exit.

Bright braziers cast long shadows across the marble floors as she crossed between the yawning pillars, her own shadow was a long dark streak as she slowly made her way down the steps. Raising her face to the few stars she breathed in the darkening night air. Her indigo eyes rested on the nearly full black moon that only her order could see. She scowled at it, for she despised the sight, and the growing pain in her head was her gods reply to his own disdain for her.

She thought again about that day so long ago... when she had walked out of the chambers where she had taken her Test clothed in robes of black. It was the single most destroying thing in her life second only to losing her sister. She had told Raistlin she played in the dark so others would not have too.

It was true.

But a part of her did fear that somewhere inside of her, a hunger lurked. Something that she was not aware of, something gnawing inside of her, wanting to be released...

Others of her order willingly took the black robes for the forbidden secrets only they could learn and wield. Most black robes were ambitious and selfish, doing anything and everything for their own good. All things were a stepping stone to raise themselves higher in power. Raistlin himself was not above such a pitfall of the order. She could see it in his eyes, a nearly lustful need for knowledge and greater power as well as domination of anyone below him. Everyone was a piece on his game board.

Yes, she knew, even her.

She had seen that in his strange eyes as well when he learned her view of the magic and how she wielded it so differently than any other. She saw the intrigue, his fascination. Most mages scoffed at her, thought her mad. But not Raistlin Majere.

What she didn't tell him was that there were times when the secrets of the darkness was so tempting, so alluring to her. That there were times she reveled in the power the god of the dark moon granted her. Reveled in it and hated how it made her feel. Sometimes she cried after casting a powerful spell or tore at her skin, wanting to be rid of the feeling the magic left in her. But after she had settled, the need of the magic would return.

There was always the magic. She felt it hum around here wherever she went. She could feel it and she could see it when she put her mind to it. Her weird way with magic always singling her out among her peers, Yurielle was always alone in her ways.

Singing her one sided song into the darkness was the only thing she could do to keep herself grounded. The only thing that offered her solace when those feelings and need for more power tugged at her heart. That seemed almost a different magic, this song she wielded, for she could not explain it and had long ago, stopped trying to. For her teachers and the masters at Wayreth refused to acknowledge her strange ways. So wrapping that side of herself deep within, she kept that power to herself, used it only for herself. Letting others think that she was mad was just fine with her. For they could never understand....

Unlike other black robes, she walked the dark not of her own free will, but with a conscious choice and acceptance of her fate. An agreement made with the gods.

Yurielle walked it to show the others that someone so unlike them, could wield the darkness for the light. This was the pact she had made, what she willing gave up even though the other gods of white and red magic had begged her to not take on such a burden.

Many had tried; all had failed or broke under the strain. Some days she felt it, the heaviness around her. Only her song freed her heart...

But days like today, when the black moon is full, even the weird side of her magic held no power to comfort her as the dark god of magic tightened his grip on her, reminding her of the pact she made. Reminding her that she belonged to him.

“I hate you...” she whispered to that black moon, a great yawning void in the darkening sky. For her eyes and the eyes of her brethren, it glowed eerily as it cast strange void light on the world. Tonight, soon in fact, it was to become full, as it was more often than the other larger moons. It was only full for a few moments and she could feel the rise in power around her, the air crackled with it. She could almost hear the god whisper his distaste for her back at her. He hated her as well, but refused to retract his power that he freely gave her, as if he enjoyed seeing her use it.

During her Test, he had argued hardest against her taking his order. Nuitari didn't want her. But.... other voices had said it had to be so. This was needed of her... but she couldn't remember why. For the life of her she could not remember WHY! Besides showing others that darkness was not evil, there was something else she needed to do... Yurielle shook her head, banishing the questions and doubts that always tumbled around in her mind.

Standing on the glittering white steps of the Great Library she felt her eyes sting with tears of loathing and helplessness. She felt utterly alone in the face of the black moon. A lone star in the darkness, burning for no one to see. Yurielle was sure that she was just a tiny, infinitesimal pinpoint of light drifting in a sea of blackness.

The other moons at that moment crested the far horizon; both were small slivers of light. Solinari offered a thin line of silver while Lunitari was a small wedge of blood. Both were weak and faint for tonight belonged to the black Nuitari.

She hated these nights most of all, when the black moon was full and the others so tiny. They were hardest for her to bear and she hadn't meant to be caught outside underneath its gaze. “I hate you...” she said again as her eyes rested once more on her patron. She said it slightly louder this time, her voice dripping with venom even as pain stabbed behind her eyes in answer.

“Is that any way to speak to our god?” a voice floated at her from the darkness.

Tearing her eyes from the sky she turned and found a shadow standing next to the nearest pillar. She didn't have to ask who it was, “Raistlin,” she offered him a slight bow of her head. “I only speak the truth. Nuitari and I have... a rocky relationship to say the least.”

His form detached itself from the darker shadows around him and he came to join her on the steps, his own eyes raised to the heavens to take in the view of their moon.

“Been busy?” she asked him curtly when he said nothing.

He turned to her, the crystal on top of his staff caught the light of that dark moon, flinging obsidian beams only they could see around them into the shadows. “But of course, evil deeds are never done by themselves,” he offered her one of his rare smirks as he mocked her.

She scoffed, “I wouldn't know. That’s your specialty. Not mine,” she said and continued down the steps, leaving him behind. She heard the gentle rustle of his obscenely expensive robes as he followed her.

“Irritable tonight Yurielle?” he asked lightly, coming up to her side. His staff thudded lightly on the marble walkway.

“I don't feel well...” she admitted quietly. “The black moon makes me ill when it's full.”

“Truly?” she heard his robes rustle when he turned to regard her.

She pinched the bridge of her nose; her eyes had begun to ache from looking at that void in the stars and pain now radiated inside her brain. “Yes. I regret that I cannot share in your apparent happy mood this night Raistlin.”

“What are your symptoms?”

She chuckled ruefully, “Playing nursemaid to me now? I'll use your own words back at you, 'There is nothing to be done for me.'”

His sudden hand on her arm halted her halfway down the grand walkway leading away from the Library. He turned her to face him and their eyes met from the dark depths of their hoods. The black light that the staff magnified around them glinted in his eyes, making her wince in pain. He watched her, studying her face.

“Is there something you want Raistlin,” she closed her eyes, no longer able to absorb any more of that dark light.

“You truly are in pain?” he asked again.

“It probably wouldn't be so bad if I didn't tell Nuitari to go fuck off at every chance I get,” she said icily then turned her face back to the ground. “Can you please move your staff or cover it or something... before I vomit on you... its only amplifying the moons light....”

She heard him shift it to his other hand away from her. It did make her feel slightly less nauseated. “Thank you,” she said and continued down the path, head bowed and arms thrust deep into her sleeves, the pain in her head was growing worse by the moment and it was making her dizzy.

Raistlin watched her; this new information was puzzling to him. He could not grasp how the black magic, the very magic she used, caused her so much pain when all others of their order felt the ecstasy of its high tide. She had been right, he was in a good mood as the air around them sparked with the swell of magic. It was his favorite time every eight days when he could feel his power at its highest.

Quickening his steps he caught up to her just as she reached the street stretching away from the Library. She turned down it on her way back to the inn.

“Tonight is a powerful night Yurielle. I am sorry that you are unwell because of it,” he murmured.

“It will pass soon,” she replied and slowed her pace before stopping at the corner of the street she would take to the Sage's Rest. “I'm being rude in my discomfort. Apologies, I know that you would not seek me out if you did not have a reason for it. How can I be of service to you this night, Master of the Dark Tower?”

Stopping next to her, being careful not to let the staff shine the dark moons light into her eyes again, he turned to her. “I had merely come to see how your studies have been going and if those angsty dark elves gave up any more of their secrets to you.”

He saw a smirk play on her lips, “All things give up their secrets to me eventually Raistlin. So yes, I believe I've learned everything I could from them. For the time being at least.”

“Oh? And pray tell what did you learn?”

She audibly sighed, trying very hard not to clip her words in irritation brought on by her discomfort, she replied, “It has to do with my theory and your skin. But you've made it very clear you wish no interference from me. So I bow to your wishes and shall keep my assumptions to myself.”

“You've spent the last two days solving the unsolvable on my behalf? I'm honored lady,” she could hear the mockery in his voice.

“Just yesterday morning,” she shot back, letting her irritation seep into her words now. “When I learned all those books offered I moved onto other matters. I have many subjects that I came here to find information on and very little time to do so in.”

“How little time?” he cut in, surprising himself.

“I return to Wayreth the day after tomorrow,” she said. “Today was my last day at the Library. Tomorrow I need to gather my supplies and begin my journey home.”

“So soon?” again the words were out of him before he realized it.

“I've been here nearly a week. That's all the time they allow me.”

“You cannot come and go as you please?” he asked, his brow creasing.

She shrugged, “I will work there until I pay off what is left of my debt to them. I helped out enough that they continued to let me stay as a student, but I never had two coins to rub together my whole life. All supplies, books and instructor time were all on loan to me.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose again and closed her eyes against the headache behind them. After a moment she continued, “I suspect I'll begin to see gray in my hair by the time I can repay the Conclave. I don't mind. A friendly black robe isn't instantly judged within those walls as they are here walking down the street. I'm respected there, at least to some extent, and allowed to focus on my own pursuits as well as transcribing and translating unknown tomes and documents that other mages find.”

“They're using you,” he growled, causing her eyes to snap open and meet his. They were hard and angry. “You've passed your Test, you owe them nothing.”

“I owe them my life Raistlin. I owe them for giving me a warm bed and regular meals. For giving me some measure of a childhood. They gave me direction in a time I was lost,” she looked at him meaningfully. “They took a skinny little starving girl only on the word of an old woman that I was gifted and taught me to read and let me learn. It was years before my gift blossomed, they could have thrown me out at any time. But they saw something in me, as unconventional though it is....”

He only glared at her, his face was hard and cold, full of obvious disdain for the Conclave and their ways.

“Don't think that I don't know they're using me. Keep me around because I'm weird and strange, a novelty they get to pick apart every day,” she said hotly, her head aching. “You should have seen their faces when I came out of my Test. They've never gotten over the shock of it. I think they keep me close, use me for my talents so that they can keep an eye on me. They don't like anything that they don't understand. But I don't need to be telling you that... Do I Majere?”

Still he was silent as she ranted on in her frustration and pain, her headache nearly blinding her. Though, when she thought about it later, she didn't quite understand who she was more frustrated at. At the debt she owed the Conclave, at Raistlin for being right, or at herself, for being a coward.

“When I came out in the black robes Par-Salian nearly had a heart attack! Even the other heads of the red and black were speechless. Especially Ladonna, she scoffed and thought me useless to begin with. Now that I was in her order, she fumed for weeks!”

She rubbed at her face then, taking a long, slow breath. “But what am I to do Raistlin Majere?” those indigo eyes softened slightly when she looked back at him. “We don't all have the luxury to disobey them. Not all are as powerful as you, he who locked the Dark Lady in the Abyss.”

When he made no reply, she tentatively reached out and took his hand carefully in her own, gauging his reaction she lifted his hand between them. “I expect I will not see you again once I leave Palanthas. Despite my best judgment, it truly has been an honor Raistlin. I have enjoyed meeting you and I do wish you well my friend.” She seemed to hesitate for a moment, indigo eyes locked with golden when suddenly she pressed her lips to the hard surface of his knuckles.

Releasing his hand, as if it had pained her, her eyes abruptly hardened and she backed away, “You're a dangerous man to be talking with and I say and do too much around you! Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a hot bath and the rest of that brandy until sweet oblivion dulls my pounding brain.” She side stepped him and continued down the street in a rustle of robes and soft footsteps.

He stood there, watching after her, feeling strangely stunned by her whiplash of emotions. Being so careful with his own, witnessing someone so heated go back and forth yet stay seemingly so in control was something he rarely saw. His hand ached where her lips had kissed his flesh.

“I want to know your theory,” he called after her. His usually soft voice was strong and steady.

Raistlin's voice called after Yurielle and she heard a hint of longing in it. So subtle she doubted he even knew it was there but it took her so off guard that she froze her in her tracks.

For yet another time this night Raistlin walked to catch up to her, but this time his steps were even and with purpose. He came to stand in front of her again, with a finger on her chin he gently but firmly tilted her head up to look into his eyes. She was half a head shorter than he, but in that moment it seemed like she had withered in front of him as if caving in on herself. He saw the light faltering.

“Come with me Yurielle. Come to my tower this night,” he said softly again now. His voice low and smooth like the velvet he wore. “If my time with you is so short as this, I find that I am unwilling to let you go without knowing more about you. Despite _my_ best judgment, I find you fascinating and worthy of my time.”

Her eyes widened, “Your tower?”

“Or wherever you wish,” he conceded. “I can understand that my tower can be... unappealing to most on the best of days. You are in pain and the journey through the Shoikan Grove would be unpleasant. But my own library is vast. There are tomes there I think you'd find to your liking, being a curse breaker and all...”

Indigo eyes narrowed but he caught the hungry twinkle in them. “How dare you lure me with books,” she said without any malice. The promise of new knowledge distracted her from the fact his hand still lingered on her chin.

“Is that a yes?” he asked and she caught his eyes light up like an eager child wanting to share their favorite toy with a new friend.

All mages, black robes especially, knew what kind of tomes lay within the Tower of Sorcery at Palanthas. The cursed tower that Raistlin had laid claim to only a handful of years ago. A place no other mage had dared even step foot near had opened to him willingly and gave its secrets to him alone. The thought of laying her hands on even a fraction of that knowledge was tempting to say the least.

She couldn't help but smirk at the look on his face. “A chance to spend time with the most feared man in all of Krynn in the darkest most cursed place this side of Ansalon? It's like you know that my weakness is dancing with darkness...” Her eyes closed again and she finally moved away from his hand.

He released her, albeit reluctantly, his hand still hovered near her face as if to touch it again. “On any other night but this one, I would accept Raistlin. But I fear that as the moon grows stronger, I will grow more ill and far more irritable. Even you won't want to be around me when I'm in that mood.” She stated, her eyes closed in pain and nausea.

“On the contrary,” the lightness in his voice made her open her eyes again. “I find this fascinating as well. This malady you suffer from is unlike anything I have ever witnessed or heard of. Perhaps as you did me, maybe I can be of assistance to ease your suffering.”

Yurielle cocked her head in confusion; a crease wrinkled the marble smooth skin of her forehead. “How?”

“In order to pass unharmed through the Shoikan Grove without a Nightjewel, I must ward you myself. This shield will protect you from the evil there. Perhaps it will help shield you from the rays of the black moon as well.”

She thought a moment, trying to think of any spell she knew that would do such a thing. It must have been something he had created, due to the nature of the Grove itself. “It may work... However I find it more likely that it may backfire on someone such as me. Especially on this night, near high tide no less.”

“In that we disagree, I believe it is the perfect time to cast it on you,” his hand reached out to rest on her shoulder and she could feel the heat of his skin through her robes. “I theorize that you cannot even sing to bring yourself any comfort right now. This night, as the black moon waxes stronger, our god forces you to feel his power, it's the one time that your own strange skill is dulled. The one time you must accept the robes you wear. It's the deal you made for the magic...”

She felt herself try to step away from him, stunned by his knowing. His hand on her shoulder kept her near him. “We all gave something of ourselves for the magic...” he said softly, a deep look of understanding in his strange eyes. “All of us, every one, paid a price. Some far less than others. But you and I...” he took a small step closer to her and she was suddenly enveloped in the heat of his body. “We made unspeakable deals that none other dared. Because we cannot be broken by their will... white, red or black, no moon or god will ever bend the two of us.”

That hand returned to her face then, fingertips ran lightly along her skin. “I see you Yurielle,” his voice was barely a whisper. “Yurielle the contradiction. Yurielle the healer. Yurielle the only star that the black moon cannot cover.”

Her eyes stung from not being able to blink and from his words, “Breathe Yurielle....” he commanded and she took a slow lungful of air, unaware that she had not been breathing. “Is that a yes?” he asked again, hopeful.

“Yes...” she heard herself whisper despite her best judgment. “Yes I'll go with you Raistlin...”

A softness she had yet to witness entered his eyes for a heartbeat, as if he had braced himself for her to say no and her agreement to follow him was everything to him. He lightly licked his slender lips, “Hold still Yurielle, do not move,” he commanded.

She became still as a statue, not from his command but from how close he had come to her, from how his hand was now gently holding the back of her neck, cradling her head. His thumb gently caressing back and forth down the soft skin along her ear. She couldn't suppress a shudder at the warm touch.

Slowly, carefully, he pressed the corner of his lips to her forehead and began to whisper. She tried to hear the words, tried to understand the incantation, but her blood rushed through her ears at the touch.

Several things happened in that instant.

Yurielle's legs nearly buckled out from under her as he dragged his lips along her forehead, his words spidering along her flesh. It was if his lips were a dagger, the white hot edge cutting open her skull and pulling her soul from her body. She couldn't contain the gasp that soon turned into a whimpering moan as golden stars erupted behind her closed eyelids. Her body ridged, she had fallen against him, her hands clenched at his robes.

His other hand, staff and all, had grabbed her from behind and crushed her to himself, their bodies tight against one another in an embrace far more intimate than they were expecting. It was nearly like the embrace of a lover, tinged with the ecstasy of the magic that bound them.

Yurielle felt her body explode at the sensation that tore through her. It was almost like an orgasm.

Almost.

Raistlin nearly lost the spell to the utter destruction of them both. Her reaction to his spell both surprised and enthralled him. The breath of her moan against his neck nearly tore all his thought from him. She didn't know it, but she had moaned his name. He could feel her body pressed against his, her curves molded so tightly against him that he felt as if neither were robed. It was if he could feel her flesh against his, warm and hot and yielding to him and his touch.

Only by his sheer will and years of focus did he manage to finish the spell and pull his lips from her skin. The taste of rose and peppermint lingered in his mouth that now watered at the taste of her. She was trembling in his arms, her breath coming in small gasps as she rested her head now against his chin. Her fingers held his robes in a white knuckled grip.

It took several minutes before Raistlin could compose himself enough to trust in speaking. His own breath was shallow and hitched, his blood rushed in veins, set on fire from her voice that had caressed his name.

They both felt it, the moon had reached its peak and now began to ebb.

“That was.... unexpected,” he said, his voice still slightly shaken. He cleared his throat, “Are you alright Yurielle?”

She had slowly released him from her death like grip and he was able to return some of her weight back to her faltering feet. He still kept his arm around her, steadying her in case she swooned.

Yurielle drew away from him slightly. A porcelain white hand went to her forehead, she winced. “I.... I need to sit...” her voice was thin.

Together they sank slowly to the ground. Once she was seated she released him fully and drew her knees up to rest her forehead against them, her hands over her face.

“Yurielle?” concern filled his voice as he knelt next to her, completely unsure of what was happening.

She nodded her head, “Just....” she breathed slowly between her hands. “I just need a moment!”

Raistlin gave her several before he began to lightly run a hand over her arm, as if to soothe her, the touch only made her shiver again.

Very slowly she collected herself and finally was able to look up from her hands and into his face. “Wow... that was... something,” she smiled at him sheepishly, her faced flushed in embarrassment that she hoped he didn't see. Hoped he didn't know what he had done to her, her whole body still trembled at it. Gods she felt like she was on fire from his lips alone!

He sucked in a breath, his eyes locked on her forehead. “No....” suddenly his hands were on both sides of her head, his staff clattered to the stonework beside them. “No... no NO NO NO!” he all but cried in the dark street.

“What? Raistlin what is it?!” she exclaimed in alarm, her eyes wide with fear.

Before Raistlin's cursed eyes, on the area in which he had cast his spell against her skin, the flesh there began to wither. Began to flake and crumble away like dust. His eyes were wide and full of alarm as his thumbs rubbed at the skin in vain. “I didn't... I didn't mean for this...” his voice was strangled.

“I don't understand Raistlin.... what's wrong?!” she felt panic begin to rise in her at his actions. It was unlike anything she thought she would ever witness.

He closed his eyes, unable to watch part of her perfect face wither to ash before him like everyone else. “The gods mock me...” he fell back away from her, sitting on the cobblestone walk way he felt despair rise in him. “What have I done....?” He looked like he was going to be sick.

“What....?” she asked again, rubbing her forehead. The skin there still flamed from his touch. But magic also tingled there. She felt the black weave of his spell. She felt the outline of it, the flow of it, the structure of it. It was like gauze over her skin, strange and foreign but it was also like a hum of a note. Low and thrumming it pulsed with his power and she could sense it like tiny golden sparks across her skin. The spell was strong and masterfully crafted, but for her, it was incomplete. She knew that for all other people it would be far more than sufficient to suit his purpose. But not her, not the strange mage that wore the wrong color. The one who used and saw the magic differently.

Closing her eyes she examined the spell and saw it within her mind's eye. She ran the events of the last few minutes back through her perfect mind and heard his words. Even though she could not understand the spell, she heard its music.

Running her finger along the line his lips had drawn, she hummed one small note. Clear and high she complimented his spell and ignited it, completing and aligning it so that it would work for her.

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her in awe.

“Raistlin?”

He ignored her and reached a trembling hand out to touch her again, for in his eyes, her skin was whole. It no longer withered, being perfect once more. He lightly ran his fingertips over the flesh, dreading it would flake away again. This time, he looked as if he was going to weep, so great was his relief.

Suddenly he leaned in and pressed his forehead against hers, against that place he thought he had tainted. “What are you, dear Yurielle....?” his voice was low and quiet, almost inaudible.

“Why Raistlin...” she whispered at him. “I'm just me.”

He laughed suddenly, “Indeed.”

Swiftly he stood up and offered her his hand. “Come Yurielle, the night is young and we both have questions that need answering before this day is over.”

 

***

 

Yurielle followed Raistlin Majere, Master of the Past and the Present, through the near empty streets of Palanthas. It was well after sunset now and going into night. The shops were closed and the people had gone home. Only cutthroats, drunks, and brigands occupied the side streets they took. But they, being masters of the dark, caused all others shrink away into the shadows upon seeing the two black robes. None dared approach them.

Neither said a word as they walked, her form slightly behind his. Her hand was still tightly clasped within his own. She stared at their hands between them, her blood rushing once again in her ears at the feel of his strong fingers woven through hers. She noted how his metallic skin glinted against her pale flesh as they walked underneath the few lamps and lit windows as they passed. He seemed to be light and life while her skin was cold as a corpse.

Her stomach trembled, but not unpleasantly, at the gentle way he led her through the night, at the suddenly near possessiveness of him over her. This was a different Raistlin, a dangerous Raistlin. Yet somehow, a gentle Raistlin. She felt no fear as he led her to the unknown.

She couldn’t fathom the look she had seen in those hourglass eyes at whatever he had witnessed on her forehead. Her thoughts were a jumble as she remembered it. He looked like he had lost everything, like his world suddenly held no meaning. She couldn't fathom the reason behind his actions.

At that moment he turned to regard her and her heart clenched in her chest at the look in his weirdly captivating eyes. Power still shone there as their moon, though now waning, was still strong. But also something else shown in those eyes that made her quake and legs go weak. The look was like what had caused her body to shatter from during his spell. That look beckoned to her with promises of more. More power, more magic, and more secrets. More Raistlin Majere.

Dark and alluring, the sparks of his magic still dancing on her skin, the dark archmage held her deep within his grasp. In that moment, Yurielle knew she could not resist him.

_'God's what am I walking into...'_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me everyone! You're comments and kudos always make my day!  
> Going into the New Year, I've decided I will try to update this fic weekly on Thursdays or Fridays. Trying to pace myself so that I don't end up catching up with what I have written so far! I don't foresee it happening anytime soon unless I get hit with a severe writers block.  
> Anyway, cheers to the New Year! :)


	8. Tower of High Sorcery, Palanthas

Long minutes later Raistlin slowed his pace and stopped, pulling Yurielle to stand next to him, he motioned with his staff. “The Shoikan Grove, and within it, my home,” she heard a touch of pride in his voice as she tore her eyes from him and looked before her.

It was a scene straight out of a nightmare.

Just a few feet ahead of her, the pristine marble of the street suddenly crumbled into blackness. Dark roots of a thick grove of trees twisted in agony, clawing at the rock hard ground up to nearly where they stood. Shadows filled the wood before her like a living mist and from the center of the large wood, a giant tower thrust into the air.

That tower had been beautiful once, by all accounts. Before the dark mage Andras Rannoch had cast himself down upon its gates and plunging it into a never ending curse, the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas was once the fairest of the five magic towers. The great marble structure had once been white, the smaller minarets on either side, once topped in vibrant crimson, glittering in the heart of the city.

But now the tower was black and horrifying. The once shining veins within the marble walls now shown red like blood oozing from charcoal black skin. The two minarets were now each domed in crystal the color of old blood. The very top of the central tower, high above them was crowned in death and Yurielle's eyes still pained her as she gazed at it, for it was glittering with the light of Nuitari's Moon. It seemed to her that million dark droplets of shining blood ran down the towers sides like a macabre waterfall of death.

The trees themselves were twisted things now. It was said that the Grove's purpose was always to deter the unwanted by casting unease and dread into any non-magic users who dared approach. Now the trees caused nightmares, not only turning away unwanted intruders, but stealing their willingness to live as undead things roamed within. Nothing could pass beneath those branches and survive without allowance from the Master of the Tower himself. He who commanded all darkness within the Grove and Tower alike.

Those once lush leaves were now dry withered husks still clinging to the branches even after a hundred thousand wind storms had tore through the city since the curse was laid on this place. They whispered like dry screams but would never fall. Like the tower, the trees were now dark, horrifying shadows of what they once were, twisted by evil and given much fouler purpose than what it once was in the Age of Dreams.

Yurielle's hand went to her mouth at the sight of the trees. They writhed at her in their torment, “They're in so much pain...”

Raistlin merely watched her, silently gauging her reaction to his domain.

They stood at the very edge of the wood, near the narrow path that went up to the tower. With a tentative hand she reached up to brush the nearest branch. “Do you not hear their agony?” she asked him without looking at him.

He reached up and took her hand in his before she could touch the seemingly brittle leaves. “Careful lady, you are shielded. But you can still suffer harm in this place. The trees have grown hateful of all life,” he indicated along the twisted roots. Looking down she could see the bones of birds and tiny animals who, for whatever reason, thought they could find shelter in the boughs of these trees.

“I do not blame them...” she said, her eyes back on the black trees after she gave the bones on the ground a sad gaze. “Will you do nothing for them? Why not release them?”

“Would that I could fair curse breaker,” Raistlin stated, his own eyes now on the trees. “I will be honest, even if I wanted to, I would not release the Grove. It keeps everyone away from my home. The Tower has been thus for hundreds of years and the trees keep it safe,” he gave a sardonic smile. “I'd be swarmed with kender before I could blink if I freed this place.”

She knew he was right, and a sad smile played on her lips. In her heart she knew these trees were beyond help. Even if the curse on the Grove was lifted, it would be a mercy to cut each and every one of them down to end their pain, burn them and salt the earth. Even then, their echo would haunt this place. They would never be as they once were; the curse had run on for far too long.

“It is beautiful though,” she admitted sadly as she took in the sight before her. “Like a sensual nightmare.”

“I was hoping you'd see it that way,” he said but she wasn't sure if he was jesting or not as he took her hand again in his. “Come Yurielle. I will guide you. This place will not touch me. However, even though you are warded, I still fear this may be unpleasant for you. Do whatever you need to keep strength in your heart.” He looked meaningfully at her, “Just don't go breaking any curses while in this place. Or you will be charged with keeping the riffraff out until the end of your days.”

She flashed him a dimpled smile, “You dangle the promise of long forgotten books and dark curses that have stretched through the eons then threaten to not let me enter? I think you brought me here to brag and frustrate me Raistlin Majere. I'm not really seeing what I get out of this.”

He cocked a thin smirk of his own, “My pleasant company?”

“Oh yes, you're the height of rainbows and unicorn giggles Master of the Dark Tower.”

Again he chuckled slightly, the sound seemed to make the leaves above them shiver. It certainly made Yurielle tingle. He caught himself and marveled, he couldn't remember the last time anyone in his whole life had made him laugh this much in so short of time.

“Lead on Raistlin,” she said after a moment of her own tinkling laughter. “It's not polite to keep a girl waiting with baited breath. I believe I have what you men call blue balls at the thought of all that knowledge in there. I MUST be satisfied! Let's go!” she gave him a slight nudge with her arm as she took a step forward.

“You have the oddest phrasing,” he commented after her and had to pull her back next to him before she darted down the trial without him.

“Let's call it another bad habit,” she decided as her eyes beheld the trees around them as they began to descend down the dark trail.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched her. Her hand squeezed his but it did not tremble as the Grove began its assault on her senses. He could hear it scream and moan at her, the roots tried to claw and trip her but she watched them with fascination as she lightly stepped around them, her movements graceful and fluid.

Mist and shadows began to hover around them, drawing closer. She could see faces within the vapors; they were twisted with dark emotions and malice for the living. Her heart beat at their agony as she listened to the discord of the Grove.

As he expected a low hum floated from her throat as she weaved around the roots and clawing hands of mist, still somehow she kept hold of his hand in hers, as if she were dancing with him. Raistlin watched and listened to her, utterly captivated as she wove around him, his hand still clasped in hers.

Her melody started low, the deep hum and timbre of her voice crept up from inside her, taking the Grove unawares until the sound of her voice had edged deep into the shadows. “I have a song for you my friends!” she called out suddenly, clear as a silver bell.

“Come... come closer and hear me souls of the forgotten! I'm here, I see you... you are not alone in your pain. Be eased if even for a moment for you are not forgotten in this instant. Not by me, not by my heart sweet dark forest! Take my gift and let it be your meal this night... let it fuel your dreams under the moons and be a poultice for your agony if only for a time,” she cried lovingly into the shadows as her voice again began harmonizing in a way that was both opposite and complementary to the black around them.

Once again he couldn't help but gape as her voice made his bones tingle and blood race as she sang gently into the ice cold air around them. Her words would forever echo in his mind.

“You are darkness to my light... do you feel it? This star, I fade away... Your shadow so complete... did you feel it? In you, I fade away...”

Raistlin's steps nearly faltered as she sang, her eyes had fallen on him casually but they slid off of him to gaze back into the mist that had become still, the forms frozen at her siren's call. She had released his hand now and she danced around him. Her hands caressing along the mist, soothing it as her song continued but he no longer was hearing her words through the rush of blood in his ears.

Dizzy and light headed, Raistlin's heart hammered inside of him as he now followed her _._ There was power in her words, power to move him in ways he never thought possible. For a moment he thought for sure that she had cast a spell on him, done something to him that he did not understand.

But no, listening silent to her as the melody ended and her voice floated back and forth now in a wordless and strange echoing tune, he saw how it affected the Grove around them. He watched her dance and sing, her attention fully on the death around them. There was a hush now, a calmness that hadn't been in this Grove for hundreds of years. It was heavy like a deep slumber.

As he walked, and she danced in slow circles around him, she began to sing the same words again but in elvish. It was an old dialect he barely understood, only able to catch the connected base words that had carried over into today's current usage.

The trees sighed then, the roots stilled and the mist retreated into the ground. The branches above seemed to relax ever so slightly like a muscle long held in a cramp, they slowly released the pain, but the ache would return fresh soon enough.

At that moment they reached the end of the path and halted before black twisted gates that stood within the wall of black glass that encircled the tower.

“We don't have much time,” she said, her voice still rang around them like rippling waves. “I've given the Grove but a heartbeat of solace. It will reawaken shortly.”

Still awed by her magic, Raistlin reached out a hand that slightly trembled from her spell, he opened the gate far enough for her to pass through. He followed and closed it behind them, looking back through the bars he regarded his now silent Grove as it ever so slowly began its eerie stirring.

He turned to meet her smug expression. “I could lift that curse so easily if I wanted to Majere,” her eyes glinted at him both with excitement and challenge as she suddenly spun away from him, her robes twirled around her. She giggled then as she whirled and he fancied that he could almost see the excess remnants of her songs magic fall from her fingertips.

Her song had been so very sad, filled with ache but yet, here she was happy. As if holding the opposite emotion to balance the space around them.

Gently he lay a hand on her arm as she slowed her spin, “You....” he breathed and shook his head, unable to form words in the face of those bright eyes, those cheeks flush with her enthrallment of her magic.

Nothing about it was black or dark. Nothing of what she just did drew any power from the black moon. He was at a loss as he once again wondered what he had found lurking in the depths beneath the Library. Raistlin marveled at her words and why they struck him so deeply. Why that ache in his chest seemed to curl in on itself as if stirred by her song as well.

“Come,” he commanded, taking her by the arm. The clock tower in the city chimed the eighth hour, the hour of Last Watch, as he led her into his tower.

 

***

 

Yurielle finally was taken aback by the two glowing eyes that suddenly appeared before them after crossing the foyer and entering a large circular room within the Tower. She gasped and fell back into Raistlin's chest, he steadied her with a firm hand.

The eyes rolled forward, focusing on them, “Master you have returned,” a detached and ethereal voice hovered at them. It was hollow and cold, like death itself. Those pale orbs with no pupil shifted to regard Yurielle. “New blood master...?”

“No,” he said menacingly. “She is not to be harmed. Treat her as you do myself and my apprentice. Is that understood?”

The orbs bobbed up and down in a silent nod, “As the Master wishes.”

“Speaking of my apprentice, has he returned yet?”

The orbs still stayed fixated on Yurielle, “No Master, he has not arrived...”

Raistlin nodded and taking Yurielle by the arm guided her away from the silent guardian who stood motionless in the center of the mostly dark chamber, for very few candles burned to light the area. Those eyes had shifted and still watched them as they began to ascend the stairs.

“You keep interesting company,” Yurielle stated, now following him up the great spiraling stairway, her eyes drinking in the sights as best she could. But they ascended the stairs too fast and it was very dark, few torches were lit even here along the seemingly treacherous path.

From what she could see, the very center of the main tower was hollow, the stairway stretching up to great heights ran along the outer wall of the shaft. Doorways could be seen at each level upon where a landing stretched along the circumference of the tower in a great circle, the middle still open in a gaping hole. Some doors stood open, but most where closed or the landing too dark so she could not ascertain what lay beyond at the far side.

“Like him do you? I assure you sweet Yurielle, there's far more where that came from.”

“Oh goodie...” came her sarcastic reply.

Passing several landings, they eventually reached another vast one that encircled the whole of the tower. Here he paused, leaning on his staff. For the first time tonight his lungs began to rattle, threatening to close off.

“You walk these stairs every day?” she asked, looking at him then up into the spiraling darkness.

“Not every day,” he coughed into his sleeve. “The next level is the main library, the one after is where I reside and many above that, the laboratory.”

“Laboratory?”

He gave her a humorless smirk, “Where I do my evil deeds fair Yurielle.”

“Of course,” she rolled her eyes dramatically. “Just a crazy old black mage in a dark tower doing the gods know what. I would have perhaps hoped you weren't part of the typical stereotype.”

“We can't all be like you Yurielle,” he said and turned back to the stairs.

“More's the pity,” she sighed as he began to ascend. “I rather like me. I think the world needs more of me....”

He smirked within his hood and they continued on their way to the next level. Reaching it, Yurielle saw he was visibly growing weaker and she came to his side, ready to offer assistance if he required it. She didn't say anything as he once again leaned against his staff. After a few moments he got his breathing under control and he held out his arm to her, she took it and he gave her a small nod and motioned for them to continue onward to a door on the other side of the circular platform. As they neared she saw another pair of orbs floating before the door.

Like before they shifted and looked at them, “Master has returned.” The eyes then turned to her, “He has brought new blood among us...”

“Yurielle is not to be harmed,” he repeated to the guardian. “She is under my protection.”

“So I see Master....” the eyes bowed and closed, then faded.

Turning to her he gave her a look; he acted like he was going to say something but looked away without a sound. He took a step to the great door but her hand suddenly halted him. “Say what's on your mind Raistlin.”

He held her gaze for a moment, “There are things in my Tower that, in hind sight Yurielle....”

“Are you having second thoughts about letting me in?” she arched an eyebrow at him when he paused. She then giggled lightly, the sound echoed - not unpleasantly - around them. “Did you forget to hide the skeletons in your closet Raistlin? I can give you five minutes to sweep your secrets under the rug before you let me loose in your library if it would make you feel better.”

Again he found himself smirk, “I very much doubt that any of my skeletons would make you bat an eyelash. I only mean that there is vast evil in this tower. Evil that is ancient beyond memory. You must be on your guard always here Yurielle. Far more so than in the crypts beneath the Great Library.”

“Oh good,” she flashed a roguish smile now. “I was worried you were the height of the evil here. This is the most excitement I've had in a long, long while! Dark forests, floating eyeballs, evil wizards,” her smile turned into a grin, “A few skeletons would be the icing on the cake!”

Shaking his head, Raistlin opened the door and led her inside.

Ever burning orbs were already blazing inside the vast chamber. Every wall was lined with tall rows of bookshelves holding countless tomes and scrolls. Rows upon rows filled the spaces in between and open sections could be seen were seating areas and tables were arranged for both lounging and studying. Artifacts and magic items lay along next to papers and ink wells atop heavy wooden tables and desks. The room stretched out of view, following the curve of the tower.

“Whoa...” she breathed reverently at the ancient books as she entered, her eyes glazing over. Large leather tomes, books bound in wood and other strange bindings all stared back at her from the shelves. Some were so faded and worn they were only held together with a prayer. But she could feel that, unlike the chamber within the Great Library, this library hummed with magic. Dark magic and forbidden secrets.

Yurielle swallowed with an audible gulp.

She turned to find Raistlin regarding her silently. “Is that approval or fear Yurielle?”

Flashing him a tinkling smile, she all but darted into the room. Twirling down the aisles she eyed the books as she passed, her slender hands out as if to touch them but she hovered over them instead. Her head cocked slightly to the side as she passed the rows.

“What are you...” he asked as he followed her along the shelves.

“SHH!” she snapped her fingers at him. “I'm listening.”

He held his tongue as she perceived something that only she could hear. Finally she came to a dead end and with a “Whoospie,” she turned and came back his way. He froze as she neared watching her strange behavior warily.

Stopping in front of him she cocked an eyebrow. “Move please. You are in the way!” she playfully moved him aside and her indigo eyes took in the selection of books now before her.

He caught the slight whiff of orange blossom from her hair as she brushed against him.

Yurielle's fingers lovingly ran across the bindings before her until she pulled two giant books apart and reached into the depths of the shelf. She was on her very tip toes, reaching as far as she could. Her hand came back holding a thin leaflet held together with a rotting string.

Raistlin had never seen it before in all his time here. “What is it?” he asked.

“Answers and theories,” she replied and took his wrist then pulled him out of the aisle to one of the tables. “Sit,” she commanded and he, despite himself, obeyed.

She lowered herself into the chair next to him and opened the small bag at her side to retrieve her notes. Laying them and the new strange booklet on the surface of the table, she opened both and started scanning the pages quickly.

After several long minutes Raistlin cleared his throat. Her head jerked slightly in his direction but Yurielle didn't remove her eyes from the new booklet, her lips moved silently as she read the lines. She held up a finger to indicate he wait when he took in a breath to question her.

He scowled at her, unused to being bossed around. She seemed to think she was able to do that with him and did so without hesitation. What vexed him the most is that he seemed to almost enjoy it coming from her.

Almost.

Minutes stretched on as she read, lost in her own little world of secrets and theories. Raistlin sighed and shook his head.

_'Gods, what did I let loose in my Tower?'_

 


	9. Essence of Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the notes at the end of the chapter for a few cite's I'd like to give out! I'm not sure what's really appropriate or how to exactly go about it. But I want to make sure to give credit for inspiration where it is due!

 

 

The silence inside the library within the Dark Tower in Palanthas stretched on as Raistlin Majere waited for the woman Yurielle to finish reading through the small booklet she had found. The parchment was thin and yellow, brittle to the touch but she handled it with careful reverence as she scanned the faded words.

Raistlin watched her with his hourglass eyes as she read, and as he did his thoughts roamed, his mind eventually finding its way back to her reaction to his warding spell only a short time ago. He recalled with sudden clarity how she had felt pressed against him, how she had moaned his name... whispered somewhere between pleasure and pain. It was baffling to him but Raistlin felt his skin flush at the memories. He was thankful she was so engrossed in her finding that she did not notice him gawking at her again. For Raistlin knew full well that she would most certainly have words for him if he was caught.

Pulling away from those thoughts he shifted in his seat, growing ever more impatient. He disliked having to wait. Why was he even entertaining this strange girl with her weird magic and bossy mouth? Raistlin risked one more glance into her face before looking away and silently drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair.

No, she was no girl. The archmage was acutely aware that this 'girl' next to him was a woman grown. Judging by her face, she was near in age to him. He wondered then how long ago she had taken her Test... for most human mages were well into their third decade before they took it. If she was indeed similar in age as him, then she had also taken it young like he had. This, among other things, spoke volumes to him.

Indeed, the woman next to him had talent in the art yet, truth be told, he sensed very little of it around her. Perhaps this other strange magic she wielded had something to do with it? Had this wild magic somehow helped her pass when most certainly, judging by what little he could sense, she could have perished. These questions added to the enigma that was this Yurielle before him.

More than once she revealed to him magic that he did not understand. First was when she repaired the damage his ward had done to her skin, somehow fixing his own magic so that his cursed gaze once again did not touch her. The second was her song that she had sung for the tortured Shoikan Grove, soothing the centuries old agony upon a place filled with undead and worse. Neither was possible! If he had not seen both occurrences with his own eyes he would have thought they were kender tales.

Thinking about her use of strange magic, he noted that none of that power she put forth drew upon the black moon. None of that power came from Nuitari, the dark god they both followed. Where did she draw this other magic from? Certainly there must be some source...

The gods mocked him with this vexing woman for she was completely outside of his rational understanding of the art that they both shared.

His thoughts then turned fully to her song that she had sung within the Grove, the melody of which still hummed in his veins. Even though she had sang it for the trees and the undead lurking there, he could not help but think about the meaning behind her words.

 _'Darkness and light..._ ' he thought to himself as he stole yet another glance at her briefly, _'how fitting.'_ Here this woman sat, all smiles and warmth, next to a man who was the very antithesis of her.

She was indeed a star, seemingly shining within the vast night. He had said it himself to her - that she was the only star the black moon could not cover. But would she indeed fade away as her song suggested? He had seen her death within his fever dream...

That thought in particular made him uneasy, and it irritated him greatly because he could not figure out why her words both unnerved and charmed him so. Why was he even bothering to unravel this riddle? He drummed his golden fingers louder on the arm of his chair, annoyed by it all.

Finally Yurielle nodded and turned to him, ignoring the scowl he still wore as he puzzled through his thoughts. “You still want to know my theory?” she asked. Her voice was brimming with barely contained excitement, being reinforced by whatever it was that she had just read.

Raistlin sighed, he had nearly forgotten about that in his dark musing. “I suppose I can't back down now. I've let you sing lullabies to my trees and run loose in my library. A price must be paid for such foolishness.”

She flashed him a dazzling smile, her dimples deepened. “Good!” She took a deep breath then to gather her thoughts, “You know I treat the magic differently right?”

He nodded silently, those eyes of his showed her nothing of his own inner thoughts as they held her in his stern gaze.

“I'll confess something to you Raistlin,” she said more seriously now. “I can sense the weave of magic...”

One white eyebrow rose slightly but still he remained silent.

“When I really concentrate...” she shook her head, sending waves of hair cascading around her shoulders, “It's hard to explain. Every time I try to, no one believes me. The Conclave thought me mad...” a tiny scowl darkened her face for a heartbeat before it disappeared.

“The weave of curses and regular magic appear different to me, this is how I've known your skin is no curse while your eyes are. I can see them both in my mind, but because they are both part of you, its sometimes hard to find where one begins and one ends. So... if you'll allow me,” she hesitated awkwardly, “I need to examine your skin so I can connect with the magic there in order to understand it better.” She said in a rush, hurrying the words. “Hold out your arm and push your sleeve up so I can touch you.”

“What does this have to do with your finding?” he indicated the booklet that rested on the table next to her while ignoring her rather forward request.

“This booklet only confirms the theory that I've been building along with the other tomes I read within the Great Library. Once I feel your skin, feel the weave of magic there, I'll know for certain if my theory about your skin is right,” she explained mysteriously.

Raistlin hesitated a moment but did as she bid. Pushing the heavy hem of his robe to his elbow he then rolled up the dark sleeve of his tunic to bare his right forearm for her.

Yurielle watched the golden skin appear before her, slowly revealed from beneath the thick velvet he wore. The surface of his arm had a metallic sheen to it that gleamed ever so slightly in the light from the orbs around them. Reaching out she went to touch his forearm, but she noted how his jaw clenched and his body went ridged as she neared. “Does being touched make you uncomfortable?” she asked just before her fingers made contact with his skin.

“Yes,” he said through tight teeth.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, pausing.

“Does what hurt?” he looked confused.

“Your skin. Does physical contact pain it?” she asked in a scholarly tone, her hand still hovering over his arm.

“No,” he replied coldly.

She gave him a knowing look. “Ah, I merely had thought perhaps being gold changed its sensitivity somehow, but it's just _you_ who doesn't like it.... I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm just trying to understand you Raistlin,” she said softly,

He nodded his assent, “Understood. I find I'm more eager to hear your theories than I am uncomfortable so, if you must, then please proceed Yurielle.”

“Get it over with huh?” she shook her head. “I promise this won't hurt,” her eyes darted back to his and she added teasingly with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, “Much.”

“Gods help me,” he said grimly.

Gently Yurielle took a hold of his thin wrist and leaned forward in her chair so she could better inspect him. His flesh looked like metal, but it was soft and smooth as she lightly ran her other hand down his arm. Sparse, pale hairs lined the top of his arms like any person's body hair would as she slowly turned his arm to inspect both sides. The flesh was indeed like normal skin and it yielded to her fingers like any other as she prodded and manipulated the surface carefully.

She noted however that he still radiated the unnatural warmth that she was growing so used to and was now sharply aware of the heat as she touched him. Her fingers quickly felt hot and seemed to vibrate from the magic within his skin. The heat was not feverish, just warm. It reminded her of how a cat feels curled next to you. Warm but not stifling, almost in a lulling manner. She had touched his forehead before when he _was_ feverish and this was very different.

Concentrating as she ran her hand along his arm and focused on that feeling of magic there. “There indeed is spellwork in your skin Raistlin. Strong magic...” she said, unable to keep a slight tremor from her voice. “Within it, a dark hum of... something else...?” a crease marred her brow as she felt the spells weave below her fingertips, trying to understand it. To her the spell was like a golden mesh woven into his physicality, but it didn't just appear gold to her because the skin itself was gold... for to her mind's eye, she saw tiny golden sparks wink in and out along the spells surface. The same as she had seen behind her eyelids when he had warded her.

His hand suddenly clenched reflexively in response to her caress. Feeling the muscle of his forearm, Yurielle was surprised to realize how toned he actually was despite him being thinner than most men his frame. Even though he had grown up sickly and still suffered ill health, he was used to pushing this body far past what one would think he capable. His young life had molded him, forged him, and the long road to get to this point had hardened him.

Turning his arm she ran her fingernails along the skin up into his palm, noting how her nails left very slight raised lines, same as what would happen to her own skin. “So physical damage to your skin seems possible..” she stated absentmindedly as her nails lightly scratched him.

Raistlin hissed softly at the rough caress. And, unbidden to himself, he realized that he was enjoying it as she played with the tender flesh along his wrist. Her touch was soft as butterfly wings yet was sending sparks up his spine.

“Do you get wounded? If I would cut you, would you bleed?” her voice entered into his secret pleasure at her touch, her fingers were now dancing along his palm. Lightly she traced her fingertip over the ridges and lines there as if she were reading his future from their secret language.

She looked up to find his eyes half lidded as he watched her hands play along his skin, those hourglass orbs glittered from behind surprisingly dark eyelashes. “Yes. Yes I'd bleed,” his voice was low and even. “Please refrain from stabbing me in your zest for information!”

Quickly she returned to his hand and Yurielle felt heat rise to her face when she realized how her fingers were now playing with his. At how those golden digits seemed to respond to her touches. They were light caresses yet something about them was... intimate. She cleared her throat and forced herself to not notice how his fingers curled against her own. “When did your skin turn this way?”

“I came out of my Test like this.”

“What can you remember about why it may be so?”

“Nothing.... I can remember no reason for it...” he said quietly, his fingers becoming still within her grasp as if he suddenly realized what he was doing.

Yurielle frowned at his hand when he stopped responding to hers. Her fingers felt cold without his touch. But she accepted his answer to her question. Either he didn't know, didn't remember, or didn't want to. The Test worked on so many levels of mage's being, some of it was a battle within the unconscious mind as well. More often than not, the ordeal left no memory, only vague shadows.

“Before your Test you were normal?” she asked then and had stopped her own touches. Now she merely held his hand gently between her own.

“As normal as I _could_ be I suppose,” he replied acidly, his eyes still resting on his hand held in hers. Normally by now he would have drawn away, but he found himself enjoying this.

“And your eyes?” she asked, peering up into them again, forcing him to look at her once more. “Your eyes and hair, what where they before?”

“I don't see what that has anything to do with my skin.”

She shrugged, “Perhaps I'm just curious.”

“...Blue eyes, and my hair was brown...” he said cautiously. He could tell she was trying to imagine that in her minds eye as those indigo orbs roamed his face.

“Your eyes are most definitely a curse...” she said softly, her own staring at him yet looking through him again.

Raistlin felt himself begin to squirm under her intense gaze. She was dissecting him and he didn't like it. But he quickly suppressed the feeling of unease, refusing to let her have any power over him. Her bossiness was quite enough! Give her any more leeway and he'd be as useless as his blockhead of a twin around this vexing creature.

“My eyes carry the curse of Raelanna,” he confessed and watched as she drank in this new information, filing it away for later use. Her mind worked rapidly behind those captivating dark eyes of hers, so quick and intelligent. There was a sharpness there he noted, something that could almost be cruel in her search for understanding. He could almost see the iron clad gears working intricately in her mind. He wondered then, what had forged them? Raistlin had no doubt that she would solve any problem set before her, in any way she needed too.

“My skin Yurielle. That is what I have never been able to solve,” he reminded her firmly. He could tell she was about to get completely side tracked. Just as he was by her and her close proximity.

She had the grace to seem chagrined and nodded, “Right, your skin. We'll discuss your eyes another day.” Turning back to his hand she asked quietly, “May.... may I feel the other?”

He brought his left arm up from where it had dangled at his side. Pushing the fabric up herself, Yurielle exposed his skin to the air between them. She had to work around the small dagger he had strapped in its sheath to his forearm here, as well as leather cords he had bound around his wrist. She could feel spells woven into the leather and the beads that decorated it. The dagger also hummed at her with magic of its own.

The bracelet took her slightly off guard but the dagger didn't. All mages were allowed one weapon on their person as a last defense in case the magic failed them. Yurielle had one, but rarely strapped to her body like this. She did during travel or if she was alone in places she wasn't familiar with, but seldom on everyday occasions. She found it slightly alarming that he seemed to arm himself always. Armed and brimming with both defensive and offensive artifacts. How many more magical items were hidden beneath those lavish robes?

She gulped slightly, suddenly realizing that she sat next to the most powerful wizard in the world, armed with only her own magic that was pitifully weak by comparison. Her robes were plane and unadorned with any spellwork, she had no artifacts or defensive items on her person. All she had was her spell components. What little good they'd do her. She was no battlemage.

Yurielle had never fought anyone and the man before her was well versed in war. He was suited for battle, having easy access to quick and powerful magic to dispatch his enemies and, above all, defend himself. The knowledge that he always seemed ready for a fight made her wonder how often he had to battle for his life, how often had people tried to kill him?

Was that truly the case? Or was he just extremely paranoid?

Either way, Yurielle had no way to fight him if he intended any harm or if he suddenly perceived her as a threat. Again she wondered what he saw in her, why he entertained this corpse of a girl before him with her theories and unusual methods? She banished the unease and questions to focus on the task at hand.

Both of his arms and hands were the same in look, feel, and the weave of magic within the skin. Just as she knew they would be. She didn't know why she had asked for the second, she just really enjoyed the feel of his warm skin under her fingers, smooth as golden silk. Enjoyed feeling the threads of magic woven around him and the way this magic hummed in her mind. She knew what it meant, these threads she felt, the sparking of gold stars she saw when she closed her eyes as she touched his skin... She began to let go of him before the memory of his lips on her forehead distracted her too much.

However, as she pulled her thoughts away, there was the faintest hint of that 'something else' that kept eluding her full notice. Something outside of the spell, it was like an inky blackness to her senses. Oily and dark, the malevolence of it took her off guard.

Right before she fully pulled away, she realized that a few of those golden flecks of light were consumed by this unknown force hovering on the very edge of him. Almost by instinct, Yurielle reached out for that speck of gold that was being swallowed up by it but as her essence touched the shadow she gasped, horrified by it.

In her mind the shadow reared up and lunged for her! And what was worse, is that something inside of her reached back almost as if she WANTED to touch it! Recoiling in terror she pulled away fully and opened her eyes.

Raistlin was staring at her in alarm. He had sensed something as well.

Sitting back and releasing him, she returned his stare with eyes wide. “What in gods name Raistlin...” she stood then and wiped her hands on her arms. She felt soiled and ill, but gods there was something thrilling about that darkness...

 _'There are secrets and there is power that only I can show you...'_ something whispered in the very back of her knowing.

Rubbing her eyes with her hands Yurielle took a calming breath to quite the whisper and banish the strange hunger she suddenly felt. What in the world was that! There was a tickle in the back of her mind.

Nuitari was laughing at her.

Finally she cleared her throat, refusing to be cowed by the god mocking her. “Okay that will do, thank you.”

Raistlin dropped his left arm, the sleeves returning to cover it as he rested his right on top his lap between them. His face was carefully guarded as we watched Yurielle slowly sit back down in her chair beside him.

He had felt... _something._ For a heartbeat he felt less drained. For an instant there was a lessening of his frailty. He almost felt stronger, as if he drew upon something else...

 _'A new source of sustenance...'_ the words prickled in the back of his mind. His eyes narrowed. He had heard that voice before but he could never place it.

After a moment of gathering her thoughts and bringing them back on track Yurielle asked, “Can you feel my touch on your skin normally? Or does it seem lesser than you remember?”

“I dislike being touched,” he reminded pointedly, his attention now back on her. “But I suppose it feels the same as ever.”

Yurielle watched him for span of a few heartbeats. Already that uncertainty and fear she had just felt was fading. What was around this mage that so repulsed her yet so intrigued her? He was so intense and gloomy! Seeing this in him, she reverted to what she knew best, the opposite.

Suddenly she reached out and pinched his arm that rested on his lap between them. Not painfully, but hard enough that he jumped with a surprised yelp. He frowned at her but she only grinned playfully at him, “I couldn't resist,” she giggled. “You're so _serious_ all the time Raistlin!”

He continued his scowl, his mouth turned sharply down at the corners, but after a few moments his features softened ever so slightly.

“So your skin can take physical damage,” she continued back on their original course, not missing a beat. “Do you bruise?”

“Yes. And I won't be surprised if your little pinch doesn't leave a welt,” he glowered again at her. “Here you wonder why I loathe unnecessary contact...” he quickly replaced the fabric of his sleeves to hide his skin in case she got it into her head to further her experiments.

“Oh don't be such a baby,” she smiled at his complaining before barreling onward. “So the magic doesn't protect you from physical damage. But what about magical?” A wide grin spread across her face now. “Have you ever been hit by a spell?”

He thought a moment, “No... What are you getting at?”

“Your skin is a shield Raistlin,” she stated matter-of-factly, eyes glittering excitedly at him. “Either immune to, or at least highly resistant to magic cast against you.”

He sucked in a breath, eyes wide.

“Over my years of translating ancient texts, I've come across many fragmented bits that point to old and forgotten spells. Most just offhandedly referencing golden shields. But I've always thought the spells created a force field or a bubble of golden light around the caster. That is, until I met you!”

“In what tomes did you find this information in?” he sat forward now, eager to learn.

“Several over the years, but it seems our angsty dark elf friends were rather fond of defensive magics eons ago. Long before the Cataclysm. Far back even before the Age of Dreams. Even before the gods made themselves fully known to the people on Krynn, when the world was wild and young. Magic was shaped different back then and it was often very unstable, it's ambient weave untamed and volatile. But, if you know where to look or read history books carefully you may find mention in some battles that the elves of old glittered like the sun!”

She turned to the booklet next to her, “This is only a series of poems and stanzas. It's written like a storybook, I'm surprised to even find something like this here. But it speaks of a clan who went to war against another. This clan had an elite battlemage who's skin blazed golden and could not be defeated by magic. Anyone just reading it would think it symbolic.”

She sighed, lost again in the story she just read. “The great hero bound in gold, shining like a beacon against evil.... He was quite the powerful mage and was thought to be immortal. But it turns out a spurned lover slipped a dagger into his cold heart. It really is quite the tale!” she flashed him a smile that dropped slightly when she noted he cared nothing for that part of it.

Raistlin's eyes were feverish as he drank in this new knowledge about his skin. Slowly his mind began to understand, began to piece together fragments....

“The thing is,” her voice interrupted his thoughts, “I've found so many tiny snippets like this in so many other books, poems, and stories that I truly believe that they had some kind of spell that would deflect magic making them resilient to attack!”

He looked at her dubiously, “You really think my skin is spell proof?”

Yurielle nodded, a strand of her dark reddish brown hair fell in front of her face and she batted it away like a fly.

“Who cast it on me?” he asked, more to himself than to her as he marveled at the skin on the back of his hand, as if seeing it for the first time. Even as he watched, his own hand withered before his cursed sight.

“You did Raistlin.”

His eyes snapped up to meet hers. Again he looked doubtful, “I have no knowledge of the spell, how could I have cast it if I did not know how to?”

She shrugged in answer but added, “I know you cast it on yourself, I can see your essence woven into the spell. Woven right along your skin.”

“See my essence?” he asked, uncertain he heard her right. His eyes went back to his skin, watching as his hand wrinkled and mummified in his eyes as time ravaged it. But his flesh was still golden even though it rotted.

The woman nodded, “I'm weird remember... In sensing the weave of a spell, I can sense the caster. If I'm familiar with the person, I can recognize where the spell came from because every spell has part of the caster within it. It's my own personal belief that this is truly why casting magic drains us so. Part of our own energy goes into it. All magic needs a source...”

“And... you see my essence? You are certain? How?” he asked. When she didn't immediately reply his eyes left his hand to look into her face. After staring at his rotting skin, seeing that face his curse did not touch was jarring.

Also, she was blushing again.

“You cast a spell on me... remember?”

Oh yes, of course he remembered.

“So to answer you, yes. I know that you cast this spell on yourself because I can see _you_ within the weaves making,” she continued on before it grew awkward. “You cast it, and you maintain it with your own energy...” she leaned in and unconsciously took his hand once again in hers.

“Don't you see Raistlin? This shield is draining you! Your lungs... you never healed from the damage you took during your Test. They're just as much broken now as they were when you faced whatever you have no memory of during it! Your body is in a constant state of energy drain! You have nothing left to heal yourself, everything is going to this never ending shield you uphold...”

She paused and thought a moment before continuing, “Sources say you were always a.... well, for lack of a better word, a sickly child. You were ill much when you were young and even then had trouble with your lungs correct?”

He nodded, trying to follow her.

“Such aliments are not uncommon and are treatable,” she stated. “But your Test ruined you. Something happened there... something.... unspeakable. Somehow you threw up this shield to protect yourself. But from what? And _WHY_ do you maintain it? Even though it constantly drains your body, making you unable to fully heal.

“Think about it Raistlin,” she kept going, now fervent in her reasoning. “Look at everything as a whole. Have you ever felt as you did before going into the Test?”

“No...” he replied.

“How good is your appetite?”

“Not very,” he confessed.

She nodded as if this were all confirming a fact that he was completely lost on. “Do you sleep well?”

“....No...” he said carefully.

“Do you have nightmares?” she asked gently.

She watched as the corners of his eyes tightened slightly, his face hardened a fraction. He didn't want to answer, didn't want to seem weak. But, in spite of this, Raistlin found himself whispering the faintest,“...Yes.”

Her eyes softened. It wasn't from pity, far from it. Raistlin saw a kindred understanding in those eyes. Eyes that knew what it was to wake in terror.

“You feel as if all you do, no matter how much you rest and conserve your energy, is fight to even live day to day? You eat but it all burns away. You sleep but there is only unrest. Nothing replenishes you... It's like an unending exhaustion of the body...”

Instead of replying he only nodded, for she had said everything truly.

“This spell draws on you yourself as its fuel. It will not let your damaged lungs heal fully no matter what you do because all of your energy is keeping the spell going. It's like a wound that never closes, always festering, always raw and painful,” she sat back now, releasing his hand.

A deep crease formed between her eyes. “My tincture may not work for you at all.... I guess we'll see....” She tapped a finger against her bottom lip in thought before suddenly shrugging, “Then again it may, and with your lungs finally healed your body will be in a state of maintaining the shield only instead of constant repair AND the shield. Perhaps then you'll feel better?”

They both knew it was a rhetorical question, for neither could really know the answer as she continued, “I don't believe the damage that’s been caused can be reversed fully, perhaps some. But, if we can help your lungs, remove the rawness within them, then perhaps you will finally find some measure of comfort. Perhaps then we can deal with the WHY you maintain the shield...”

The hope that shone in her eyes made him freeze. No one had ever given his health any thought and this fresh insight into his situation blindsided him.

Yurielle reached a slender hand up and took a small lock of hair off his shoulder and wound it around her finger, “No wonder your hair turned white. The shock on your body to such a change... to such constant energy drain... It's amazing it didn't kill you Raistlin. You have such strength,” she said quietly.

He could only sit there, frozen by her and feeling suddenly very uncomfortable in the face of her praise.

“I won't lie Raistlin...” her voice again filled the air as she let his hair go and her hand fell to her own lap. “You are a man wrapped in pain and curses. You hold a shield that its making is lost to history. A shield that is all but killing you just as it is protecting you.”

“Protecting me from what?” he had to ask.

“That’s just it... I sense something else around you too. I can't explain it. Its like.... almost like another presence.” Her arms wrapped instinctively around herself at the memory of that oily blackness. It was so deep and dark. So very much aware!

“I sense you in the weave around your skin but also something, no someone else on the outer edge of it. It was not a part of the spell itself. Whatever it is, it seems like its trying to get inside of you... or is drawing upon you. Just as I was pulling away... I saw this...” her brow creased, trying to find a way to explain it, “this blackness absorb some of your own essence. Just a tiny fraction of you disappeared...” she shook her head to clear the memory of how it lunged for her, of how she wanted to reach back.

“Whatever it is that’s around you, its dark Raistlin. Dark and ancient,” she looked worried then. “Your Test is none of my business, but it must tie into what happened there. If this presence is indeed also drawing on you... then it only adds to your problems.”

Yurielle forced herself to calm as she unwrapped herself from the shelter that her arms offered. “If I were a betting girl, I'd say that something or some _one_ tried to possess you during your Test. In defense you protected yourself. You continue to be in danger because of this entity, thus why I still sense someone around you and this is why your unconscious mind refuses to release the shield spell.”

It was like the breath was knocked out of him as things suddenly clicked in Raistlin Majere's mind.

“Raistlin?” she asked in shock at the look on his face. She didn't think it was possible for him to turn so pale. “Are you alright?”

His eyes bore into hers and suddenly his hands clenched hers in hot grip, “Yurielle...” he breathed, voice trembling slightly. “You... you...” he seemed to not be able to form words. “Come! I must show you something!”

Before she could comment he had pulled them both to their feet and was leading her out of the library. He held her hand in his left and had grabbed the Staff of Magius in the other. “Shirak,” his voice spoke and the light on the orb flared as he took her once again across the landing. Instead of descending the stairs he led her higher up into his Tower.

Farther into the darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

********************

NOTES: Wanted to give a shout out to a few sources that inspired events in this chapter and include links to each for the curious. Hope that's okay!

First off the fanfic ['Red on Red'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3623223/chapters/7999359) by LadySilvania was a big inspiration behind the touching part of the scene. I'm sure other DL fanfic readers here on Ao3 have at some point read the story. If not, go send it some love! In chapter 5 of that fic there is a similar scene that really stuck with me and I wanted to explore that idea myself as well.  
Because of Yurielle's magic and how she senses it and sees its weave, I wanted to see how she'd go about learning about Raistlin's weird skin shield. Also it was the perfect way for her to stumble upon Fistandantilus and how he too is apart of Raistlin. Plus, I mean come on, who _wouldn't_ want to touch gold skin!?!  
Also a small note when Yurielle pinches him – Who's a fan of Final Fantasy 8?!? (Shameless plug for my other fanfic- ['As the Garden Turns'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840861/chapters/39534646)! Go check it out if you like crossovers and angst!)- I was working on that story while listening to the FF8 sound track and the song ['Eyes on Me'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qcW0oiLKHg) by Faye Wong (link goes to youtube video of song) made me want to have Yurielle pinch Raistlin to see his reaction. Plus the whole song just makes me think of them!    
*sigh* Apparently Raistlin is no dreamer :p 

Hope you enjoyed the chapter and thank you again for reading! Constructive criticism, comments, and critiques are always welcome and make my day!

 


	10. Den of Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really good last couple days of writing and managed to solve several issues that I as having in later chapters as well as surprised myself with some story advances. So to celebrate I thought I'd treat everyone to the next chapter early! Enjoy and tune in Thursday for more! :D

Yurielle followed Raistlin as he led her up the winding stairway along the inside of the Tower. Climbing the steps quickly, they came to another landing that wrapped around the inner wall. Before them stood a large door of thick black wood. Two more eyes floated here, he released her hand as the eyes roamed over Yurielle. “She is to be allowed entry,” Raistlin commanded to the spectral Guardian.

“Only she?” the cold, ghastly voice replied.

“Yes.”

“None other?”

“Only myself and her,” Raistlin said, slightly irritated at being questioned. “None other.”

The eyes bowed and disappeared.

“Where...?” Yurielle asked, trying to figure out why such an extra layer of protection. Then she remembered.

“My chambers,” he answered and after speaking a few words of magic and waving his hand over the surface of the door to release his wards, he pushed open the heavy black barrier and began to enter. He stopped and turned when he sensed that she had not followed.

Yurielle stood behind him on the landing, hands clenched against her chest, eyes wide and face flushed. She looked as if she were about to flee. Now that she stood on the threshold leading into the den of the darkest mage on Krynn, Yurielle was finally afraid.

“Yurielle,” he bade her softly and reached a hand out to her. “I intend no harm to you. Would you question me now?” He watched quietly as her brain absorbed his words, watched those eyes dart from the unknown room in which he would lead her then back to the steps that they had just climbed.

He knew in that moment she realized fully that this was _his_ Tower. He saw that she suddenly felt like a fly in a dangerous web. He pitied her, for in this instance, she was indeed a tiny light being swallowed in the dark. Fading away in her uncertainty. If she decided to flee, Raistlin knew he would never catch her if it would come to a running match, she was far too fit and healthy, his body would never be able to keep up. He wouldn't sink so low as to use magic to stop her either.

“You may leave if you wish,” he said gently. “I would not judge you. But if you stay I promise that no harm will come to you, not by myself or any other while you are in my home. I merely have something I wish to share with you.”

This seemed to pacify her fears and he could hear her take a calming breath to master herself. Slowly she came to his side, pointedly ignoring his outstretched hand. She would stand on her own to face this. _'Gods she's either crazy or stubborn,'_ he thought as he noted the set of her jaw and eyes. She was tense, on the defensive, and ready to fight or flee in a heartbeat. Like rabbit near a viper, but she would fight tooth and claw if cornered he had no doubt.

He nodded to her, “I admire you Yurielle. Truly. Only a fool would blindly walk into this place. You have a stronger sense of self-preservation than I first gave you credit for. May it always serve you. But this night, be at ease.” Walking before her he spoke a few words and the room slowly came alive with light from several hanging orbs and candles spaced around the room. Their soft pale glow grew brighter and quickly the fire in the hearth roared to life. “Dulak,” he commanded and his staff went dark as he walked briskly to a huge desk at the side of the room.

Yurielle stayed in the doorway, watching the room come to life around the Master of the Tower as he entered. The room was indeed a large study. Long and curved, the massive space must have taken up nearly a fourth of the circumference of the tower. For its total length, that she could see anyway, gently curved off to the left away from her. The ceiling was high in here as well, nearly as high as it had been down in the library. Despite its size, there was not a speck of dust nor cobweb to be seen.

Two large and very tall windows faced out over the city on her right, with a long stone hearth of black marble between them that crackled merrily at her. Raistlin now stood near his large desk on the left of the room, in the space between was a sizable lush rug, woven in black with the three moons all delicately displayed on its surface amongst the stars. Plush sitting chairs and a lounge sat atop the rug. Little tables sat next to each chair. Every horizontal surface of the room was filled with piles of papers, books, and more items than she could count.

Along the walls, tapestry’s hung, they looked ancient and of elven design. Each depicting the seasons in vibrant and beautiful colors. Cabinets and more bookcases lined the walls, all filled with more books and items. On the very far end of the room, almost in shadow sat a smaller door, it was closed. But she guessed it was where his bedchambers were. She doubted that he slept on the lounge.

Slowly Yurielle entered the doorway and noted that the room smelled of soothing incense and spices. The kind that eased the lungs when breathed. The familiar aroma of spell components and books comforted her as she took another step inside. It seemed a warm and inviting place and she was a bit embarrassed by her fear of it. But she truly didn't know what to expect.

Raistlin Majere was rumored to be one of the vilest men in all of Krynn. Perhaps she expected bodies strung on the walls? Grisly remains of his victims thrown around the room? A demon caged in the corner? True, there were the occasional skulls and jars of unknown things to be seen amongst the more mundane items on the shelves and surfaces, but these things were common in any wizard's lair.

Taking in the area more she saw on the ledge of the one of the windows, a small silver candle burned and next to it, her bottle of tincture that she had made for him. A smile touched her lips. “I'm glad you actually listened to me.”

“Why would I not? You seem a capable and knowledgeable mage Yurielle,” he said from beside his desk. He stood still as a statue, watching her movements carefully.

“So,” she said when the silence and his staring started to become awkward. “You wished to show me something?”

“Yes,” he turned then, finally believing she would no longer flee and went to the orderly pile of books on the surface of his desk.

It would look like chaos to most, but Yurielle saw the order to his piles. She saw a glimpse into how the mind of Raistlin worked and categorized his pursuits as she slowly toured the vast room.

While he sifted through the pile on his desk she had made her way to the sitting area to admire the richness of the rug under her feet, the soft fabric of the chairs and pillows on them. Noted the lush blankets draped across the couch. It looked cozy. Maybe he did sleep here...

He came up to her then, a large blue book held in his hands. “Make yourself comfortable,” he invited as he sat on the couch and indicated she should join him. Pouring some wine into a long necked glass he offered it to her as she sat next to him. She eyed the blood red liquid that seemed to glow in the firelight. “It's only wine,” he assured her as if knowing her thoughts. “Well, I confess that its more fruit than alcohol. I haven't much tolerance for strong drink,” he stated as he poured his own glass after she accepted the one from his hand.

Taking a tentative sip her palate was indeed greeted with a sweet and refreshing flavor of fermented honey and fruits. A smile played at her lips, “It's good,” she stated then eyed the book.

Raistlin noted the hungry look that came into her eyes then. Turning the tome to her he let her see it, “This is a spellbook of Fistandantilus,” he said quietly. “One of many in my possession.”

She gasped, “You jest!”

“Do I seem a jester?” he asked but couldn't help but smirk.

Her eyes were wide and she put the wineglass down on the side table before she spilled on so precious a tome. Her fingers twitched as if they longed to hold it. “May I?”

A genuine smile touched Raistlin's eyes at her eagerness. How so alike she was to him in her hunger. Handing it to her he watched her caress the night-blue leather, her long fingers tracing the silver runes on the cover. His forearms and hands ached at the memory of her fingertips on them.

He quickly squashed those thoughts down.

“I have never shown his spellbooks to anyone,” Raistlin said. He watched in satisfaction as she easily undid the wards on the binding and opened the cover. Any lesser mage would go mad if the book was not properly dispelled before opening. What little magic he did sense in her, he knew then that she had mastery over it. “I have not even shown them to my apprentice.”

She managed to tear her eyes off the rune covered pages and look at him in surprise.

“A trade for your sad story of your twin. One secret for another...” he said quietly.

Yurielle's eyes went wide and he watched them gloss over. “Oh Raistlin...” she breathed, obviously touched. “Thank you!”

They spent the next several minutes in silence as she devoured the book. The tome was filled with many spells and theories on spell crafting as well as detailed successes and failures that Fistandantilus faced in creating his own spells over the years.

Raistlin watched her openly now, eagerly observing her as she took in the book. Finally she reached the page that he wanted her to find. He waited for her reaction and was not disappointed in it.

Her head shot up so quickly he imagined that he heard her neck crack. “He's leeching your life force isn't he? Fistandantilus is the one you battled in your Test?!”

He nodded slowly, “I believe so yes. I don't remember the battle or what happened. But he is linked to me, draining me... Or at least he's trying too. I have no proof except this spell,” he indicated the open page. “But after hearing your theory... You've confirmed my long held suspicions Yurielle.”

“Of course,” she breathed, now focusing on the book, on the magic woven into it. She could sense the oily blackness. It was the same as what faintly hovered around the mage before her. “Fistandantilus...” she shuddered, disgusted by her reaction of wanting to reach out to such a creature.

“So it _would_ seem that I'm connected to him,” Raistlin was saying. “It is why I am able to claim this Tower as my own. It was his at one point, did you know that?”

Indeed she did, every mage did, and he watched her brain work out the information he gave her. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “If he's still trying to possess you. You'll never be able to drop your shield.”

“If we are correct then he still exists somewhere. As long as even a fraction of his life force remains, I don't think I'll ever be able to be whole,” his eyes were dark.

She chewed her lower lip in thought, “If he's drawing upon you... then that means you are what is keeping him alive...”

He nodded gravely.

“How can I help?” she suddenly asked.

 _'A new source of sustenance...'_ that faint memory of the voice suddenly intruded into Raistlin's thoughts. His whole body went rigid.

Yurielle took the look on the archmage's face to mean something else. “Curse breaker,” she pointed to herself. “Remember? I can help you!”

“This isn't really a curse,” he said when he found his words and recovered enough to speak. “It's more like hunting for the ghost of a long dead lich...” He very much did not like the thought of such an endeavor.

“No... but it's sure a challenge!” she grinned in an almost childlike way.

He felt himself smile at her excitement in spite of the sickening feeling he suddenly had about this whole situation. Damn her ways of making him happy. “You truly are something else Yurielle. I thank you for the offer, but this is my own battle. You have given me great insight and much to ponder now. You have helped me more than I could have hoped.”

“That's no fair!” she exclaimed. “You wouldn't have brought me up here if you didn't want my help. I know you don't do anything without reason Raistlin Majere.”

He frowned at her.

“Don't look at me like that!” she scolded. “ I'm not daft to your ways. It's no secret that you're cold and cunning, not to mention manipulative. You use people to get what you want. But I _want_ to help, so you can just be a big boy and ask me up front! No manipulating required.”

The archmage glared at her, “You misjudge me in this Yurielle. I speak truly. I do not need your help in any of this. I am more than capable in taking care of a lich,” he sneered the word. “I take back what I said earlier, you _are_ reckless! You indeed have very little self-preservation for this is fair above what you are capable of handling. I doubt songs will be enough to face this foe.” He didn't want to tell her about what he had felt when she discovered the leeches presence around him, didn't want to tell her what it had whispered to him.

If she had indeed caught the archliches attention, then things suddenly got more complicated. But right now, Raistlin simply didn't have enough information.

She eyed him back and snapped the book on her lap shut, the sound made him wince. “Very well, suit yourself. But know this, my skills in translations and finding information are far better than my magic. So even if I can't help you defeat him, I can help you find information. You know where to find me if you change your mind.” Her eyes darted outside where the other two moons had now risen high into the sky. It was getting very late.

Raistlin followed her gaze and he knew what she was thinking.

“One more thing before I go,” she said. “I want to test your skin to make sure that we are indeed correct about our theories. If we're not, then we need to rethink everything about your shield.”

He took the book from her and went to return it to his desk, “What do you have in mind?”

“Though my voice seems to have its own power, my actual magic is barely average at the best of times,” she confessed. “I was thinking just the tiniest fireball...”

Raistlin whirled to look at her and Yurielle thought his eyes were going to pop out of his skull.

“Okay fireball was the WRONG word! I meant just a tiny little poof of flame. Or lightning!” she thought of a different spell. “That's probably better huh? Just a wee tiny spark?!”

Still he looked as if he were about to faint at the prospect of flinging spells within his private study. It would almost be comical if there wasn't such murder in his eyes at the thought of defiling his sanctuary.

“Or how about ice! Then we don't risk blowing something up or something catching on fire!” she had risen to her feet and had the wildest expression in her eyes.

 _'Good god she's crazy!'_ was all Raistlin could think.

Yurielle felt like she waited an eternity as he slowly recovered himself and finally thought it through.

“Fine,” he said harshly, still not enjoying the idea all that much. “But for the love of all the gods NOT in here!”

 


	11. Frost vs. Gold

Minutes later they were once again on the ground floor within the main hall. Raistlin had lit several candles so that the large circular room was now bright and had also dismissed the Guardian, sending it to the front door to remain until they were finished.

With the specter dismissed, the two mages stood alone within the middle of the giant shaft that was the center of the main tower. Craning her head, Yurielle looked up at the stairs that lined the wall. The ascending spiral disappeared up into the darkness far overhead. Few candles and torches shone high above in the gloom, like tiny orange stars winking as they watched, waiting to see what would happen.

The floor beneath their feet was decorated in multicolored tiles depicting an image of three mages, each belonging to one of the orders. Their heads were bowed as they bent low over a book between them. Yurielle looked up from studying the mural and noted several huge doors set in around the circumference of the wall surrounding them but didn't ask where they led.

The archmage stood next to her, waiting expectantly as she took in her surroundings. “Now what?” Raistlin had left his staff by the stairway and he stood like a shadow within the dancing candle light around them.

“Bare your arm again,” she said, returning her attention to him. His arm glittered its usual pale gold as he again uncovered it for her. She took his right wrist in one hand and hovered her other over the metallic flesh. Her eyes shot up to his, “It will only be a small ray of frost cantrip. But it will still sting a bit, perhaps leave a small patch of frost bite. If I am wrong about your skin... I'm sorry.”

He met her eyes without fear or question, “All for the knowledge Yurielle. We cannot look back now,” he gave her a daring look, suddenly thrilled at the prospect of finally unraveling one of his greatest mysteries. “I am ready. Do you worst.”

Nodding, Yurielle took a slow breath and called the magic. Slowly, a tiny glimmer of blue-white light appeared in her palm. It shone with a frigid brilliance as magical cold radiated down her hand.

Because she kept the spell small Yurielle couldn't fling it the way she normally would. Instead she simply went to touch Raistlin's arm in order to directly put the spell onto his skin. Before she made contact, she exchanged one more small glance with him, asking permission. He nodded for her to continue and she pressed her hand against his forearm.

Neither mage was prepared for what happened in the heartbeat that followed Yurielle making contact with his flesh. Instead of transferring the coldness onto his skin as intended, the spell was repelled back against her! Raistlin's shield magnified and reversed it right into Yurielle's hand and up her forearm with the sound of glass shattering.

The woman stumbled back from him with a startled cry and, tripping over the hem of her robe, landed hard against the tiled floor. The spell continued to expand along her arm, spreading up it like hoarfrost on a cold winter morning, frosting her clothes as well as the area where she landed.

Raistlin stood there, golden eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar, in complete and total shock at what he had just witnessed. “Yurielle!” He rushed down to her side on the floor and took some comfort in the fact that she was already moving to sit back up. She was holding her arm to her chest and a strange sound bubbled up from her throat. The archmage realized she was laughing.

“It worked!” she exclaimed. “Did you see Raistlin!?”

“Your hand! Give it to me,” he commanded, his breath billowing out in plumes of white, the air around them was freezing cold. So cold in fact that frost still etched out from where the woman sat, the floor now covered in a thin haze of delicate ice crystals.

Her eyes were on him, “Raistlin this... this is marve...lous!” her teeth began chattering as he grabbed her arm away from her.

Raistlin sucked in a breath when he saw her skin.

Pausing in her celebration Yurielle also looked at her hand that he held in his own between them. “Oh h...hells that’s n..n..ott g... good...” Her hand was covered in a thin layer of ice, the frosted skin was already turning red and looked frostbitten. She flexed her fingers, cracking the ice and sending shards of frost splintering to the floor. He pushed the frozen hem of her robes up her arm to reveal that rivers of white and blue ice had etched up her forearm nearly to her elbow.

“Foolish more like it,” he scowled. “Come, we must thaw this immediately so that it does not permanently damage your skin. Anything else hurt?” His eyes inspected her as he knelt beside her, steam seemed to billow off of his body as his skin repelled the magical cold in the air around them.

She moved slowly, taking inventory of her body. “I f...fell hard on m...my bony ass,”she chattered as he assisted her in getting to her feet, “Mm..my hand took the b....b..brunt of it. Did... did you sss... see though?” her eyes sparkled as her other hand rubbed her sore butt. “Your s... skin n.... not only def...flected it but it al...so maggg...nified the spell!”

“I saw,” he said lowly as he quickly took her away from the frigid pocket of air they occupied. Swiftly he removed his robes and put them around her lean shoulders. He then pulled her sleeves over her hand to cover the icy skin as he tucked his robe firmly around her, trapping her frozen arm against her body within his robe that was warm from his own heat.

“M... most definitely a shield! B....but magnified? Why? H... how?! I w..w...wonder...” she was rambling, seemingly oblivious to her own discomfort and the fact that Raistlin was wrapping her snugly inside his robe.

“Focus Yurielle! We need to get you warmed up!” he snapped at her as began to pull her up the steps, his mood dark. Raistlin couldn't find the same exhilaration in the realization that his skin was indeed a magical shield. At least nothing to the level that she did, for something like guilt coiled in his gut. He was only half listening to her prattle on excitedly like a gnome with a new life quest as they ascended the long stairway. Her chilled words were coming out so fast that she sounded like a distracted kender with a bad stutter.

Yurielle ignored him as they ascended the stairs and continued to chatter mindlessly. Her words slowly becoming more understandable as she began to thaw out. “D..do you think the shield creates a magical feedback loop....? Maybe...it...” She rambled on, knowing that she wasn't making any sense, but this new development was fascinating and exciting to her. And she had been right! Her thoughts and theories tumbled quickly in her mind, distracting her from how cold she felt. So much so that she was taken off guard when she realized they were already back in his study.

“Sit,” he commanded when he led her next to one of the chairs by the fire. Swiftly he pulled the nearest blanket off the backrest and draped it around her. “I'll retrieve what I need and be right back,” he then left, disappearing through the far door and into the dark room beyond. Faintly she heard him begin to cough as he was swallowed up by the shadows. The fit in his lungs didn't last long and soon she was left alone in silence.

Yurielle sat in the plush, high backed chair facing the fire and drew her hand out from beneath the blanket and, she suddenly realized, his robes. The thick velvet was still warm from his unnatural heat. No wonder she was thawing out so fast! She pulled the fabric closer around herself once her arm was free. The scent of spices and spell components wafted at her up from the fabric, all tinged with the unmistakable smell of magic. The combined scents were uniquely _him_.

Trying not to get too distracted by the lulling warmth and smells, Yurielle lifted her hand before her to really examine the damage her spell had caused. The numbness and pain were beginning to set in now as the nerves in her flesh were recovering from the initial shock. The ice on her skin had mostly melted by now but the flesh beneath was red in some spots while other areas were pale.

The woman wasn't too worried about it though, she had been frost bitten before and knew that she wasn't going to lose any fingers because of this. The damage wasn't that bad, it was more like she had dug around in a frozen snowbank for far too long or had her hand submerged in icy water for a few minutes. It would be uncomfortable as it healed but to her, what they had gained was of far more value. She'd live with a few days of discomfort in exchange for what they learned any day.

She had been right!

Raistlin came back then with a small tub of lukewarm water carried in his hands. A bag of bandages and ointments along with several small towels dangled from his arm. Setting the water on a side table, he then sat himself on a foot stool in front Yurielle's chair. Taking her hand in his, he scowled deeply at it. “Foolish,” he repeated darkly as he once again inspected the skin.

“It's not your fault Raistlin,” she said as he gently submerged her hand and forearm in the warm water. She sucked in a painful breath as pins and needles began to shoot up her thawing arm.

His eyes darted to hers, “You're lucky this isn't much worse... it may yet blister in spots.”

She shrugged, “It was worth confirming everything.”

He shook his head as he carefully felt her skin to gauge how much warmth had returned to her flesh. After a minute or so, he drew her arm out and began drying it with one of the warm towels. “It was careless... reckless, and stupid!” he stated as he then rummaged through the bag he had brought. Finding what he needed he opened a jar filled with ointment and began to softly rub the salve into her hand and up her forearm.

Yurielle found that whatever the ointment was made from, it was warming on her skin and also helped to numb the stinging she felt as feeling returned to her nerves. The heat of his fingers added to the delicious sensation that slowly replaced the pins and needles.

“We should have been more careful,” he was saying, eyes still dark as he was focused on what he was doing.

“Raistlin we could never have expected something like this would happen!” she said again.

“It wasn't worth you getting injured over...” he grumbled quietly.

She fell silent then, knowing that arguing with him was useless.

Fine, if he wanted to pout then let him! This was a victory in her eyes. One more puzzle piece of knowledge to begin solving the mystery around Raistlin Majere. He thought her reckless, but she saw herself as willing to take chances.

Minutes ticked by as Yurielle entertained her inner dialogue while still giddy from her magic and the information gained from their experiment. She had a full conversation with herself in her mind, telling herself she was right and that he needed to loosen up.

She was about to convey her thoughts to Raistlin but quickly decided against it. Telling the Master of the Past and the Present that he was wrong probably wasn't in her best interest right now. He already doubted her self-preservation as it was. This little stunt wasn't giving him any reason to think differently.

As time wore on and her adrenaline slowed, Yurielle became aware of how her heart was still thudding in her ears. She watched, mesmerized as his long fingers wove around hers and up her arm as he very gently worked the thick ointment into her flesh. His hands were gentle and he did not aggravate the angry skin more than necessary. His touches were feather light, as to not damage the fragile cells of her skin.

Yurielle tried to look at him but his face was half hidden behind that white curtain of hair. From what little she could see of his expression, he was not happy about what had happened and took no joy in the knowledge that they had gained. ' _Let him sulk then, he seems good at it!'_ she was thinking, trying to distract herself from his fingers as they danced along her sensitive flesh.

After the ointment was fully absorbed and her skin was once again dry, Raistlin then wound thin layers of bandages over and around her hand and forearm. “This will keep the healing properties of the ointment against your skin as much as possible,” he explained as he worked. “Hopefully it'll reverse any long lasting effects of the cold spell.”

Finishing he glanced up at her to find her face had grown a particular shade of pink.

“Thank you,” she said thickly. “It feels a lot better already.” She flexed her fingers slowly, “See? No harm done.”

He only glared unhappily at her. That hard golden mask he always wore was back again, looking stern and judgmental.

She looked away from his eyes to gaze into the fire. “I should be going,” she said, suddenly feeling very awkward and began to extract herself from the blanket. Carefully she pulled his robe off of her shoulders and handed it back to him with a small “Thank you.”

Raistlin took the robe and held the cloth in his hands as his hard eyes roamed over her face. He then glanced out to the window where the moons were already slowly descending. A small clock in the room chimed, it was well after midnight. Had that much time really passed so quickly?

“It _is_ very late,” he agreed, his demeanor softening as he tossed the robe onto the nearby lounge. “It will take you much time to exit the Grove and return to your inn. There are many rooms here within my Tower. You may stay the night if you wish Yurielle.”

“Rooms?” she gawked in surprise.

“This was once a Tower of High Sorcery, a place of learning and study like the one in Wayreth. It was built with students and faculty in mind,” he explained gently.

“Ah. Right,” she said, her mind weighing her options carefully. Suddenly she yawned and she quickly covered her mouth with her uninjured hand. “It _has_ been quite the evening. I have a busy day ahead of me tomorrow. Most of the shops I need to visit are on this side of the city...”

He surprised her by reaching up and tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. She went ridged at the touch, surprised by it. “Must you leave...?” his voice was soft, barely above a whisper, his strange eyes were sincere in his question.

Her breath caught in her throat, she swallowed hard. “I know I said that I'd help you if you wanted me to. But... cannot just ignore my duties at Wayreth. I must return.”

Golden eyes locked on hers and a war of wills began. He never intended to manipulate her, and truly never wanted to use her for any purpose. But, Raistlin suddenly realized that he did not want this woman to leave him so soon.

The two days he had stayed here at his Tower had been a great frustration to him before he found himself returning to the Library to see her again. He had berated himself a fool for such a silly distraction from his work. But tonight had changed everything. In the few hours he had been with her again, she had easily unraveled every defense he had thought he had built up against her charms.

And because of that, like it or not, he had this feeling that he was like a moth drawn to her light. If she left, he would find a way to bring her back, for this strange woman before him was simply too fascinating.

With the very near deadline of her departure, Raistlin knew that if he was to keep her here, he was going to have to manipulate her. Reaching out he gently took her injured hand in his, “And if I _did_ ask you to help me with a certain problem that I have with a long dead archmage? What then Yurielle? Would you stay?”

He watched her eyes widen, hunger of a new goal filled them. “I...” she looked away, turning her head so that the curtain of hair blocked their view of each other. The sweet scent of orange blossoms hovered around Raistlin. “I will need to first discuss it with the Conclave...”

Releasing her hand he stood up from the foot stool that he still sat upon. “Very well... your path is your own. Walk it however you wish.” He kept his voice masterfully neutral.

Yurielle watched him leave her side, another deep yawn assaulted her. She suddenly felt the hours on her. His warding spell had helped, but now that the excitement of everything was winding down, she could feel the ache from the black moon behind her eyes again. Rubbing them with the heels of her palms she sighed, “I find I am very weary Raistlin. I don't think I have the heart to go back through the Grove this night. I will take you up on your offer of a room. If you'd be so kind as to direct me, I wish to retire.”

She couldn't help but stare at the almost boyish expression that lit up his face. It was gone just as suddenly, so fast that she questioned if she had seen it. He held his hand out to hers. “This way Yurielle.”

 

***

 

Raistlin didn't take her to a different level of the Tower, instead he brought her to the opposite side of the curving platform from his own chambers. Two more smaller doors sat on this edge of the landing facing his and he explained these were servants quarters. Leading her inside one of the doors she was met with a quaint, albeit dark and a tad on the dusty side, room that was more than what she required.

He spoke a word and the small hearth came to life, warming the space. Most of the shelves were empty in here, only a few old and forgotten items sat discarded on surfaces and shoved in corners. “I am afraid this is the best I can offer as I'm not accustom to hosting guests. A washroom is through there,” he indicated to the small door at the end of the room. “Cisterns along the building catch rain water. Spells woven into the stonework keep it clean and prevent it from freezing so you have fresh running water and plumping to use to your hearts content,” he explained with some pride.

“I didn't think such technology was around when they built the Towers,” Yurielle stated as she examined the room.

“This Tower was one of the last and built during the Age of Dreams. Many things were lost after the Cataclysm that we have yet to fully relearn.” He turned to eye her from the doorway. “Anything else you require Yurielle? You are safe here. I only ask that you not go on any needless kender adventure while within my Tower. I fear you will not have a good time if you enter places I have not permitted you to.”

She laughed lightly, “A kender adventure sounds fun... but I'm tired and after all this excitement I find that my headache returns. I just need some sleep,” she said to reassure the look that darkened his eyes. “So fear not, Master of the Past and the Present, I will leave the rest of your secrets alone. For now.”

He nodded his head silently and stepped out into the hall. “If you will join me in the library come the morning, once you are rested and refreshed, we can break our fast before you set off on your day.”

Turning back to him she nodded, “I will enjoy that Raistlin. Thank you... for everything this night.”

“...And you as well Yurielle,” he slowly pulled the door closed. “Sleep well.”

 

***

 

Yurielle quickly made herself at home inside the tiny room that Raistlin offered her. Again she hadn't expected to find such cozy accommodations inside this Tower. Still wondering where the bodies and the ghouls were, she refreshed and washed herself in the washroom before sinking into the soft bed. It was old, slightly dusty, and smelled stale but it wasn't unpleasant. It weirdly reminded her of the old woman's house she had lived in after being found by her near the frozen river. She spoke a cleaning cantrip over the old sheets, it helped some but they were in need a good old fashioned washing.

By now the black moon had set well below the horizon and her headache was nearly gone.

Her thoughts began to wander as she settled into the covers. For the longest time all she could think of was the feel of his lips across her forehead and the orgasmic way her body had responded to those lips.

What marvelous lips he had... what else could they do to her?

Yurielle's mind began to drift into dark sensual thoughts as she lay there, her abdomen clenched and she felt the feeling settle between her legs, aching. Her face flushed hotly at the idea of pleasuring herself here within his Tower. A smirk played on her lips. It probably would be more action than this bed had ever seen.

But no, she forced her body to calm down. That was a silly fantasy she knew. The very thought of it was laughable that he'd ever want to explore anything of the sort with her. Why would he? She was just a silly child from Wayreth. Not to mention one who looked like a corpse to him. That thought was a turn off and it quickly cooled her blood.

She was just a rotting piece of flesh to him, she kept reminding herself over and over.

Was that why he stared at her so much? Gods maybe he was into dead bodies! She shuddered at that thought and rolled over, drawing her knees to her chest.

But then she recalled the other moments they had shared... that look in his eyes when he saw her after he had warded her, how tightly his fingers had held her forehead. The sheer terror in his voice. Then how angry he had gotten when her spell had deflected off his shield, causing more than a simple chill to her hand and arm. Those reactions coming from him were all a complete mystery to her.

The man himself was a complete mystery to her.

He was cold and distant certainly. He always had a wall around himself and was careful with his emotions. For the most part anyways. But Yurielle knew that when he let them slip, he was just as surprised as her about it. She could see it in his eyes that it was something he hadn't expected. For Yurielle had coaxed both smiles and laughter from him, though small as they were, and she could tell that he did not know what to do when it happened.

 _'Perhaps he's just amused by me.... Maybe he's bored here... He'll get sick of me soon enough,'_ her thoughts rolled in her head as she got comfortable in the old bed. It was a simple fact of her life that everyone eventually got tired of her.

All though.... he had shown her kindness and seemed to actually want to be in her company in spite of everything she had heard about him. Yurielle rolled over with a huff. She just couldn't figure the archmage out. One thing was for certain was that Raistlin Majere had many layers. Somehow, she felt like she had seen more of them than nearly anyone else alive in just the few days she had known him.

 _'Perhaps.... he's just lonely...'_ was her last thought as sleep washed over her.

It certainly had been an interesting night as well as the weirdest vacation she had ever taken.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit of a Dungeons & Dragons nerd so I'll be using spells and cantrips from there in my story as I go along. Hope you enjoyed the next chapter and as always thank you for stopping by!


	12. The Conclave's Pet

Waking after sunrise, Yurielle washed and tied her hair up away from her face. She had no fresh clothes to change into. Instead, speaking a quick incantation she refreshed her robes the same way that she had refreshed the stale bedsheets the night before. It was a handy cantrip, able to remove nearly any stain or smell from nearly all inanimate surfaces.

Humming softly to herself she gathered her things after making the bed and redressing in her robes. Pausing, she took one last look around the room. It was cozy and had so much potential for it was much nicer than what she lived in at Wayreth. She suddenly felt sad leaving it behind.

“Goodbye friends,” she spoke to the silent objects scattered around the the space. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

She tried to keep her steps from being too hurried as she descended the stairs around the inside wall of the tower and came to the library's landing. Seeing the door was open and orbs already lit inside, she went to peek in.

Yurielle heard voices within as she approached. One was Raistlin's, his quite whispering tone always low yet somehow managed to carry whenever he spoke. An answering voice came to her ears. It also belonged to a male, but it was smooth like silk with a particular accent. Pausing in surprise, she realized that she knew that voice, her eyes widened as she slowly entered the doorway.

The elf's head turned, his sensitive ears picking up the slight scuff of her boot against the stone floor. He was taller than her, and for the race of Silvenesti elves, he was unusually tall. With long black hair that he wore done up in traditional woven strands and bright brown eyes, the elf regarded her with a shocked look on his face when he locked those eyes on her. He had a face that looked young despite his nearly century long life he had already lived. And he was handsome, heart breakingly handsome in the way that only elves could be.

“Ah Yurielle, come in,” Raistlin bade her from where he sat at the same table they had occupied the night before. Next to the archmage, small trays were arrayed with bread and fruits as well as pitchers containing beverages sat waiting for her on the table's surface.

She swallowed hard, not many things made Yurielle nervous. But seeing these two males together in one room was something she never thought she'd ever have to deal with. Gods this was going to be just the _worst_ breakfast ever!

Gathering her pride she raised her head in what she hoped to be a haughty manner and came up to the two mages. “Thank you Raistlin,” she bowed her head slightly.

“I hope you rested well. Were your quarters to your liking?” he gestured for her to join him.

She nodded again, “They were most adequate yes. I thank you again for your hospitality.”

Raistlin gestured to the elf who had stayed silent until now, those brown eyes alight with anticipation, “Yurielle, this is my apprentice -”

“Dalamar Argent... or Nightson... or whatever you're calling yourself now.” She interrupted as a glare was exchanged between her and the elf. “I didn't realize YOU were chosen to be Raistlin's apprentice. I guess I can't say that I'm surprised.”

The elf cleared his throat, his eyes darted to Raistlin with a raised eyebrow, “Shalafi... _this_ is your guest you spoke of? Forgive my surprise; I was expecting someone, _anyone_ , other than Yurielle, the little curse breaking pet of the Conclave.” He chuckled with a disbelieving shake of his head and turned to regard her with that confident smirk that never failed to irritate her, “So they actually do let you out of the tower once in a while to air out!”

She scowled at him, “I see that you still have that wand up your ass Dalamar. But I guess if that's what you're into these days, then who am I to judge?”

“Always that sharp tongue little Yurielle!” he took a step closer, that smirk widened, “You never did find out what I'm truly in to,” Dalamar gave a mirthful chuckle before giving Raistlin a look. “Careful Shalafi, this one will henpeck you to death if you get on her bad side. She never forgets a thing. A shrew with a bone to pick is just as dangerous as a dragon guarding its horde.” He looked back at the woman, his eyes twinkling, “Or has that tongue of yours lost some of its talents from breathing in all that book dust? That would be such a shame...”

Yurielle's face flushed bright red, “Shut up Dalamar you arrogant-!”

“Still just as feisty!” The elf cut her off with a grin then looked back at Raistlin, his mirth withered at the look in his Masters eyes. Dalamar lowered his head apologetically and bowed, “Forgive my words Shalafi. Yurielle and I simply have a bit of a long standing quarrel. It has no place in your presence. If you no longer require me, I shall take my leave.”

Raistlin dismissed the dark elf with a flick of his hand.

Dalamar bowed lower and turned gracefully. He gave Yurielle once last glare, one filled with promises of more banter, as he walked passed her but the two refrained from more unfriendly words.

When they were alone Yurielle took a deep breath to compose herself, “I apologize as well. Dalamar and I...”

“Have a history apparently?”

“No!” she cut in quickly. “Well...” Falling into the empty chair next to him she filled a glass with wine.

“Old lovers quarrel?” he cocked an eyebrow at her, his voice carefully indifferent.

She snorted into her glass as she took a big drink. “Gods NO!” she said after nearly draining the liquid within. Sighing she shook her head and shrugged, “Call it an old girlish crush if you want.”

Raistlin blinked in obvious surprise.

“It was years ago however and long before my Test. I was just a stupid love struck girl infatuated with elves. He was one of the few at the tower, just arrived from Silvenesti and I had been given the task of showing him the grounds. More fool I to think I had somehow caught the eye of a handsome Silvenesti elf,” she picked at some bread with long fingers.

“He seems to be well acquainted with your tongue,” the mage couldn't keep himself from commenting.

He watched as heat filled her face, she didn't meet his gaze. “He was... my first kiss. Elves have a way they kiss with their tongues,” she said quietly. “He.... always claimed mine worked better than most elven maidens. Don't believe him though; he'd probably say anything to embarrass me. He always liked to make me blush, thought it was 'adorable' because most elven maidens are too well bred to get so flustered...”

“In his defense, you _are_ easy to fluster,” he commented evenly as she gulped down the rest of her wine.

“It's not my fault my skin likes to betray me!” she grumbled into her empty wine glass.

“Anyway,” she said trying desperately to move past her embarrassment. “One day he and I got into a bit of an ugly spat. Dalamar is a cunning elf and was fascinated with my blossoming magic, he was one of the first to really comment on it outside of the heads of the Conclave. But I told him it was none of his business. Though... now that I look back on it, I bet Ladonna may have put him up to the task. I wouldn't put it past the old hag!”

She shrugged her shoulders then, “After I spurned him, he became an annoyance of mine at Wayreth. We always bicker, it's kind of our thing. Our spats became somewhat known among our peers. Like I said, I was young and no one had ever taken notice of me among all the books. Everyone since then has given me a wide berth, not wanting to be seen with the weird girl with the weird magic who turned down Dalamar... Then after my Test when I walked out in black, it was like I didn't exist anymore...” her face had grown dark and the poor loaf of bread in front of her was nothing but crumbs.

Raistlin watched her, disliking the scowl on her face. It was so unnatural looking there, like a mask that didn't fit and he found himself wondering idly why she wore it. “And yet here you sit, eating with the Master of the Past and the Present while those arrogant fools are not,” he said.

She blinked and looked at him as if she had completely forgotten he was there. “Yes well... They weren't wrong. All I ever was to him was the pretty girl with the weird voice and odd magic. He just can't stand that his charms didn't work on me.” She then drained her second glass of wine, “I'm not complaining though, in fact far from it. I know I'm weird, I see the weave of magic differently and my methods are strange. But for me, they work. I don't give a damn about what anyone else says. Especially not Dalamar and _especially_ not the Conclave...”

He smirked at that, gaining yet another layer of appreciation for the woman in front of him. Perhaps there were indeed reasons she wore the black robes besides what she believed. He saw a mind too eager for knowledge and understanding to let anyone get in her way. Raistlin knew that feeling all too well. Refilling her glass for her, he gestured for her to enjoy what was left on the trays.

They ate in silence for several minutes, he eyed her as thoughts and memories played behind those indigo irises. “How is your hand this morning?” he asked, deciding that she had worn her perturbed mask long enough.

Yurielle flexed her bandaged hand, “It feels good as new. Whatever you put on it really did the trick. My skins barely even pink this morning.”

He nodded and reached into one of the pouches at his side. Taking out a small round jar he handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she took it. “You don't have to...”

“Take it,” he cut her off and waved her thanks away. “It will speed healing and prevent any lasting damage if it was indeed that severe.”

She clamped her mouth shut and put the jar in one of her own pouches.

“You do indeed have a strangeness about you Yurielle,” he continued, bringing the conversation back around. “But those fools at the Tower in Wayreth will never fully grasp what they have before them. There's an untapped potential in you to do greater things than be the Conclave's 'curse breaking pet' as my apprentice puts it.”

He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes intense. “You could stay here Yurielle. I would take you on as an apprentice if you'd agree. Let us learn from one another, let us discover this wild magic of yours and see what you are _truly_ capable of.”

Her eyes snapped up, “But you already have an apprentice...” was all she could say. His proposal came out of nowhere and it had completely blindsided her.

Raistlin nodded, “Yes and he is a competent spy for the Conclave as well as an adept pupil. I value his talent and willingness to learn. His assistance with my work here has been of the utmost importance to me. Because of this, I have decided that I could use more skilled mages in my presence, those loyal to me and willing to keep my secrets. Which I have no doubt you would fall into that category. Besides, there are no laws in a master having more than one apprentice.”

She shook her head, her eyes were wide at the very thought of being an apprentice to the most powerful mage in all of Krynn. “I thank you for your offer Raistlin. But I must stay at Wayreth. I am needed, and - in spite of what you may think - I'm afraid everything you've seen is the height of my power. Therefore I have nothing I can offer in return that would benefit you at all.”

“I strongly beg to differ,” he said quietly, those eyes still locked on her. “You've proven to me more than once you possess a sharp and intelligent mind. With your perfect memory and knack for translating old tomes, you would be of great value here. Remember, my library is vast. Its arcane knowledge second only to the one in Wayreth.” He watched her eyes grow hungry at the prospect.

“You know you have a purpose greater than what you do for them Yurielle. Something larger awaits you and they are holding you back.” His whispering voice surrounded her, “You made a deal in your Test... only you do not remember it. I see it in your eyes Yurielle...you know I speak truly. They know it as well, only they keep you from finding out what the gods want from you.”

Yurielle could only stare at those strange hourglass eyes of his, they had her pinned under their gaze as he studied her, dissecting her reactions.

“Ask them Yurielle!” he said firmly now. “Ask them why they keep your wild magic caged. When you do, trust me, nothing will be able to keep you there!”

The hairs on the back of Yurielle's neck stood up at his words. She felt like he was seeing through her into every corner of her being.

“I have asked them Raistlin...” her voice came out tiny. She cleared her throat before continuing, “They try to ignore what I can do. They act as if it doesn't exist... act like its all in my head.” Her eyes lowered and she shrugged, “Maybe it _is_ only in my head. Perhaps losing my twin damaged me so that I use the moon's magic differently...”

“Lies and you know it!” he hissed, suddenly angry at her train of thought. Her eyes snapped back up to meet his at the harshness in his voice. “You are _not_ broken Yurielle! It is not the black moons magic you draw on when you sing! I felt it, that power comes from elsewhere. They are arrogant fools if they refuse to let you learn...”

“What else is there to learn?” she asked, finding her voice now and cutting him off mid-sentence. “My methods are just different Raistlin. Seeing the magic and using it the way I do doesn't mean that it's any different than the black moons. You call it 'wild magic' but... any wild magic I've ever heard of does not do what I do when I sing... It's not supposed to be as strong as that!”

His eyes narrowed at her, though not menacingly, “Is their pet curse breaker a parrot? For those do not sound like your own words Yurielle. You said that you do not care what the Conclave says about your magic. But those sound like lies they would tell you. Lies you repeat to ease your own questions about yourself.”

Yurielle felt herself pale, her throat went dry. How did he know so much? “Why would they do that?”

Raistlin sat back in his chair now. “Yurielle, take it from someone who has had extreme dealings with members of the Conclave. They do things for their own reasons. Do you think I had any right to take the Test at the age that I did?” he asked darkly. “I was only twenty when I took it. A child in terms of the magic! Yet they still summoned me... and look what it did to me. Do not tell me that they could not foresee what I would face... of the price I would pay for my magic.”

His eyes grew hard as a piece clicked in his head, “Perhaps they _wanted_ Fistandantilus to bind to me...” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Or more likely, they wanted me to die in the attempt. Or they wanted him to succeed in his possession so they could finally be rid of him after they destroyed me themselves.”

Yurielle did look at him as he spoke; an icy feeling filled her veins. Never had she questioned the Conclave, never had she thought about why they had taught her the magic the way that they had. Passed from Conclave head to the next, Yurielle suddenly saw how she had been raised differently. Trained outside of the usual classroom structure, Yurielle had been personally instructed by select teachers throughout her whole life. All of her teachers had either been heads of the Conclave themselves or members on the Council.

Sure she was annoyed, angry even, at the Conclave and the mages at Wayreth when they said her strange abilities were in her head or just manifesting differently for her. But never had she considered they were hiding something from her, forcing her to not explore her own powers. She knew that she was a novelty to them and that they used her for her mind and other talents. However she simply thought they watched her and kept her close because she came out of her Test in black robes instead of the white that she had walked in with. Yurielle had always assumed that her Test was why they were reluctant to let her out of their sight. Mages who demonstrated such huge shifts in alliances to the gods usually became rogue at some point in their lives, unable to adhere to rules or set paths, these mages were almost always dangerous in one way or another.

Raistlin was right about one thing, she could try to tell herself differently, but the magic that came to her when she sang was _not_ Nuitari's gift. She knew in her heart that that magic was different. It uplifted her and set her free, while the god's power made her queasy.

The magic in her song was not given from the gods... yet the gods wanted her in black and so she used the black magic also as she walked in the shadows. Yurielle knew she walked in darkness so that she could wield it for the light. She understood that she walked it to show others it was not evil. But there was always that feeling of something else... of some other reason why she was the way she was.

But what then, did all this have to do with this other magic? Why could she still use the moons magic?

“Fine,” she said stubbornly, just wanting to change the subject. Her thoughts were all jumbled and confused now. She didn't want to be like this in front of him. Yurielle had too much to do today and had little time to think about this now. “I will ask them Raistlin. Little good it will do me... Even if they did tell me I still owe them for everything they have done for me. 'Wild magic' or no, it doesn't change the fact that I am indebted to them, nor does it change the fact that I am needed there at Wayreth.”

Raistlin saw that he had struck a deep nerve within her. The usually confident woman was shaken by his words but he did not regret them. For, being a master at manipulating people himself, he saw the telltale signs of how her thoughts and beliefs had been molded by the Conclave. How they had redirected her mind away from learning about herself. They feared her... That, or they wanted to use her. But for what and why? Why keep this other magic of hers secret?

Yurielle groaned and Raistlin watched quietly as she rubbed her eyes in that weird habit that she had when she was frustrated or tired. She was both; he could see it in those indigo eyes. The woman before him had questions, and he had no answers to offer her. All he could offer her was a place to learn and a place to grow. The tiny nagging in the back of his head whispered to him that her power would be invaluable to him. Quickly he shut those thoughts out, he would not use her!

“I won't be able to avoid them even if I wanted to,” she was saying. “I know that they will have questions for me when I get back anyway.”

“What will you tell them?”

“Exactly what happened?” she shrugged, uncertain. “I see no reason to lie to them. I've broken no laws by speaking with you. We met in the Library and shared information. You have an interesting curse... why would I not come to learn more about you? You have not harmed me, you have been more than accommodating and welcoming to my presence. Now what Dalamar will tell them...” her eyes shot to the door where the elf had left, “I'm sure he'll make up some wild story or theory to entertain them.”

Raistlin nodded, his own eyes going to the door. “Indeed, Dalamar is cunning.” It was all that he would say. For what she didn't know is that yes, Dalamar relayed information to the Conclave regarding Raistlin and what went on in the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas, but the elf also brought a wealth of information back to Raistlin in return. Raistlin trusted Dalamar, had grown to respect the elf. Over the few years since his apprentice had joined the archmage in the Tower, Raistlin and the elf had formed a sort of friendship and understanding of one another borne out of the need for powerful allies. But, Raistlin knew all too well, that allegiances could shift in a heartbeat, especially when one wore the black robes.

In spite of all that, Raistlin was a bit irritated that he had never heard of such a mage as Yurielle at Wayreth from his apprentice. But in light of what he had just learned about their previous dealings with one another, he wasn't surprised that the elf thought so little of such a unique treasure within the Conclave's grasp. He had a feeling that every mage there was under the impression this woman was mad or that they were afraid to have dealings with her because she was the Conclaves 'pet'. Rest assured, Raistlin would be asking his apprentice about all of this. Friendship or understanding be damned, the archmage would have answers.

From somewhere in the library they could hear the time chime, it was mid-morning.

Yurielle swallowed the chunk of apple she had just bitten into. “Oh dammit the stores are open! I wanted to get most of my stuff done early.” Her eyes darted to where her journal still sat next to the booklet she had found last night. She picked it up and placed it back into her satchel that hung at her side, thankful for something to do to distract herself from those golden eyes.

“You leave tomorrow?” he asked to confirm.

“Bright and early,” she nodded, shoving the last slice of apple in her mouth and chewing quickly. “I've been charged with making sure to get all the supplies needed in the library at Wayreth. Lots of paper and scrolls, ink wells and quills... Gods it's going to take me most of the day to fill the order and arrange where to take it. Then tonight is the autumn festival within the city. There's music, singing, dancing and I...” she paused, suddenly realizing she was rambling. “I have something I do at the fest. They asked me to return this year, I can't disappoint.”

He gave her a questioning look. “What does a black robe do at a commoners festival that would have the people ask for a yearly encore?” he asked.

She shrugged, “Maybe you should make an appearance yourself. Try to find me, I dare you,” she gave him a mischievous smirk.

He arched an eyebrow, intrigued, “And if I do? What reward do I receive?”

“Hmmm....” a slender finger tapped her lips in thought. “I guess if you actually do manage to find me, we'll discuss reward then?”

Raistlin snorted, “That's not a very good incentive for me to leave the comforts of my Tower. Imagine what the masses will do if they seem me at their revelry. I have an image to maintain after all!”

Yurielle stood then with a laugh that lifted her heart and mind way from the dark doubts of a moment before, “Fair enough. Stay here you grumpy old shut in, miss out on all the fun!”

He stood then as well, grabbing the Staff of Magius in his hand he faced her. “Very well, keep your secrets and your rewards Yurielle. Any reward that would get me out of my Tower to join the urchins on the streets would have to be grand indeed.”

Her eyes glittered at him, “Oh I'll think of something by the time we reach the Grove.”

“We?”

“It's rude to not escort a lady out Raistlin. I know you're antisocial but learn some common courtesies,” she scolded him but did so cheerfully.

He nearly rolled his own eyes at her silliness, but settled instead on his usual stoic expression. “Very well.”

She grinned triumphantly as he led her out of the library, he paused as she stopped and silently said goodbye to the books. Gods if what he said was true and there were tomes here that needed her skill... she'd never be bored again! Pulling her eyes from the shelves she hurried to his side and followed as they descended the flights of stairs to the entryway.

Raistlin paused at the bottom of the steps and Yurielle could hear his lungs rattle slightly with the effort of their decent but she didn't comment as he coughed into his sleeve. It wasn't a bad episode, but it didn't sound pleasant either. After a moment he recovered and they exited the tower into the mid-morning sunshine.

Lifting her face to the sun, Yurielle breathed deeply of the crisp air. “Smell that? It's going to snow soon,” she commented.

Raistlin didn't comment, he was struck by the sunlight on her skin and how it made the red in her hair flare. Because of his eyes, he hadn't seen such a shade in many years. The brilliance of the color within the strands took him off guard once again.

Her eyes opened and turned to the Grove, “Wow it's spooky even in the daylight isn't it?” she watched the shadows and mist as they undulated around the base of the twisted trees. “Looks like my audience is waiting for another song.” Turning to him finally, she smiled at him. “Well, it's been fun Raistlin. Thank you again for everything.”

“I am the one to thank you Yurielle,” he said as he escorted her across the courtyard to the gate. “I find that I've enjoyed our time together, you have been pleasant company for this old shut in.” Opening the twisted metal of the gate he watched as she stepped through to the other side, just feet away from the edge of the Grove. “The reward?”

“Huh?” she turned back to him, tearing her eyes off the menacing trees.

“My reward if I come to find you,” he reminded pointedly. “We are at the Grove, you were to think of something...”

She eyed him then the Tower that rose behind him like a dark shadow, “I don't think I have anything that the Master of the Past and Present could ever want...” She again thought for a few moments, her fingertip on her chin, “No, not the Master of the Tower, what would _Raistlin Majere_ want?”

He started, taken aback by the question. “Another day of your witty presence surrounded by books?”

Yurielle laughed, “Was that a question? Is that your request truly! Very well, in a year then. When I return to Palanthas, you have a deal.”

“A year?” he asked, a hint of disappointment edged his voice.

She shrugged, “It is when I shall return. Take it or leave it archmage.”

He sighed, slightly irritated now and feeling a bit a fool. “Fine. What do _you_ think Raistlin Majere would want then? What does he need Yurielle?” he asked in challenge, his hand still on the bars of the gate.

Eyeing him up and down, from the bottom hem of his black robes trimmed in delicate golden runes, to his pale gold hand on his staff, to his serious and stern face with unsettling eyes that were carefully guarded as they watched her.

Spinning away from him towards the Grove she sang, “A kiss it is then Raistlin!” She gave him a wink as she danced in circles into the Grove, leaving him to gape at her as her voice rose up to dispel the darkness around her.

 

***

 

Yurielle's heart was hammering by the time she exited the Grove. Not from fear, she had lulled the forest once again, soothing it so she could pass unhindered by its terrors. She paused by a lamp post several yards down the nearest road and stopped to try to catch her breath.

Gods! She had just guaranteed a kiss to one of the powerful mages in all of Krynn! None other than _Raistlin Majere_ of all people!

“Yurielle what the hell are you _doing_!?” she groaned in dismay, rubbing her face with her hands. Forget sacrificing her own skin to an experiment that backfired in order to gain valuable information... THIS was being stupid and reckless. It was childish and just plain old silly of her to even suggest it to someone like him. But the words had fallen out of her mouth before her brain had time to filter them. Such was her usual downfall.

“You and your big stupid mouth!” she grumbled. Feeling dumb and highly embarrassed, Yurielle suddenly felt like she wanted to sink into a hole as her eyes darted back to the Tower that loomed up over that dark grove. Even here, in the bright morning sunshine, the Tower was terrifying. Terrifying and yet it held so many alluring secrets. The primary inhabitant being the greatest secret among them.

Taking another calming breath she took a moment to think. Okay... so yes she had offered a kiss to him. But why should she ever expect he'd actually take her seriously? Weird little corpse girl that she was, he was probably glad to be rid of her finally.

She nodded to herself, it was a sound argument.

Sighing, she straightened herself and took another deep breath of the autumn Palanthas air before continuing down the lane to her destinations. She had work to do and appointments to keep. No use worrying over something as silly as this. He'd forget about it in a year. Perhaps in a year he'd have forgotten about her entirely...

 

***

 

Raistlin spent the day in his library, the same book in his hand for the past hour, the same page open with the same paragraph staring him in the face. Dalamar sat at the far end of the long table, his own spellbooks in front of him, copying a new spell that he had found in the old tomes. He looked up when his master let out a annoyed growl and suddenly snapped the book in his hand shut.

The elf arched a perfect eyebrow at him, “What vexes you my Shalafi?” he asked, using the Silvanesti term for master.

Raistlin glared at his apprentice, knowing that the elf was fishing for information, any information about his time here with Yurielle. He wasn't about to share anything with him at the moment. “The change in the weather has irritated my lungs,” he wheezed, it wasn't all a lie. Weather changes always sent him into coughing fits and the dark elf knew this. A line of concern marred the skin between his apprentice's eyes and Raistlin knew that he was thinking about last year when the weather turned.

“I'm fine,” he scolded, not liking the reminder of how terribly sick he had been then. So sick that the elf had to care for a bed ridden Raistlin for weeks before he had recovered. “I have been taking care to not repeat last year...”

Dalamar nodded and returned to his work.

Raistlin watched his apprentice in silence for several minutes. The elf was young enough that Raistlin's cursed vision barely touched him. Even so, the longer he stared, eventually wrinkles would begin to mar the skin. Raistlin closed his eyes before that happened.

As pleasant as Dalamar was to look upon, he wasn't the same as looking at Yurielle. For she did not age no matter how long he stared. After being in her presence for these past few days, even watching the slow decay of the elf was almost too much to endure.

A week ago, Raistlin would have found some relief from his curse in Dalamar's presence. But now... now watching even his apprentice rot, slow as it was, the archmage felt the crushing weight of anxiety that came with the knowledge of what Raistlin could not fix.

Yurielle had reminded Raistlin just how much he missed pristine and untouched beauty. It had been so very long since anything was pure in his eyes and Raistlin felt just as helpless about his curse now as he had in those first days since the gods placed it upon him. To teach him humility, to teach him compassion.. but how could he achieve that when he hated everything he saw?

The archmage rubbed his eyes and vaguely wondered what time it was. As if to answer him, the clock at the far end of the library chimed, it was late afternoon.

Suddenly he coughed into his sleeve, the tickle in his lungs that he had been trying to suppress would no longer be ignored. As he coughed he remembered how his lungs had stilled at her touch, how her voice had summoned the breath back into them when they were raw, ragged and unresponsive to anything else. His chest tightened at the memory as if throwing a tantrum at her absence and he coughed harder, doubling over the desk. He hadn't had a fit like this since that day in the Library...

Ever the loyal pupil, Dalamar instantly rose and began to prepare his Shalafi's tea.

Raistlin sipped the bitter beverage once it was ready, his lungs finally calming. He nodded his thanks to the elf who resumed his seat before his own spellbooks. Those dark brown eyes studied his master for several minutes before they finally returned to his work.

They would often spend long hours in silence, especially on days they spent in their own research, and today had been no different. Finally, after another hour or so of the archmage shuffling books around on the desk in a vain attempt to keep busy, Raistlin stood. “I find that I am weary. I shall retire early.”

Dalamar nodded without looking up from his writing. He knew how his master's coughing fits would leave the human drained and weak.

Leaving the library, Raistlin ascended the stairs to his chambers. Locking and warding the door behind him, he went to the window to view the city below. The sky was growing orange and pink with the sunset and the city below was becoming lit with street lamps. He pressed his forehead to the cool glass just as the last of the sun's rays shot up from the horizon like beacons that called to him.

“Damn. It. ALL!” he growled and, going to the other window he stood inside a ring of runes, began casting a teleportation spell.

 

 


	13. The Dancer

Raistlin stayed in the shadows as much as possible, keeping away from running kids and drunken revelers. Snarling at kender and ignoring anyone brave enough to give him a second glance. Slowly the archmage stalked the edge of the streets where citizens of Palanthas had come out in droves to celebrate the autumn harvest, his hourglass eyes searching the crowds for the one person that did not rot in his gaze.

Colored pavilions were set up along the lanes where peddlers hawked their wares and performers entertained. He paused at a minstrel stage but no one caught his eye so he swiftly continued on. Jugglers and fire breathers made their way through the crowds dressed in bright motley colors that fast faded to his eyes just as scantily clad tumblers quickly became grotesque shambling corpses.

Raistlin sighed inwardly; THIS is why he hated going out in public.

Turning down another street, the archmage began to berate himself for he suddenly felt like he had been sent on a wild snipe chase. That same stupid game he and his companions had played on his twin so many years ago. Raistlin had this feeling that now he was the one peering into the shadows for the ever elusive creature while she was probably off giggling in a corner at him.

But this snipe was real; unlike the myth they crafted to fool his twin. Though Raistlin still had a hard time understanding what she was or why the gods mocked him with her vexing presence, he had made up his mind that he'd play her little game. For just as he had as a youth when playing games, Raistlin would bend the rules in his favor.

He pondered whether he wanted to keep searching himself or if he should just get it over with and cast a spell to find her. It was frivolous use of the magic, but he was growing weary of the hunt, the crowds stifling to him and the night air was growing chill to his lungs. The words of a Locate Creature spell were on his lips, if she were nearby, he'd know instantly. A group of men stumbled passed Raistlin from where he had paused in a dark doorway to consider his options.

“Aye the show be startin' soon! Best one of the night lads!” one of the drunkards was saying as he passed by the hidden mage. “Trust me you don't want to miss it! I don't know where they got this girl but gods how she moves! She was here last year and...” the man's voice was drowned out by the music, crowds, and laughter as they disappeared into the throng. Raistlin's ears burned at what the man had said. His interest was piqued and so, detaching himself from the doorway, the men gained a silent shadow as Raistlin followed them from a distance.

Tailing the group who happily passed a half-empty bottle back and forth, Raistlin saw that they were heading to a brightly lit tent at the intersection of a far street. Large wagons covered in exotic silks shimmered at the crowds as various brightly colored dancers twirled around invitingly. Raistlin found his way to the side of the tent and let himself inside through the poorly secured flap.

Glowing orbs ringed a low round stage where more tumblers were performing. People laughed and cheered as the entertainers seemed to be warming up the crowd. Raistlin stood in the dark corner near a pole as more people filed in around him. If anyone noticed that a black robed mage was in their presence, they wisely chose to ignore him.

After several minutes he still didn't see any sign of the woman he sought. The only thing his eyes saw were more rotting corpses, their happy faces quickly flaking away and all colors fading in his vision until nothing was left but a macabre and dull mockery of their happiness. He was about to leave to find a place to cast his locate spell when the music suddenly shifted and the tumblers exited the stage. The ruckus of the crowd around him lowered to a buzzing hum as a huge curtain descended over the platform.

A hush fell on the gathering and the archmage watched from the depths of his dark hood as the curtain slowly began to rise to reveal something unexpected to Raistlin Majere.

There on the stage, crouched a woman with her back to the crowd. She wore flowing silk skirts of black and white that pooled artfully around her on the wooden stage. Belts of silver and gold coins hung silent around her hips. Her torso was half covered in a top that glittered with more dangling coins and elaborate beading that hung down below her ribs.

The crowd murmured at the sight of a black mask attached to the back of woman’s head facing them, its dark eyes staring unblinking and empty. A red silk scarf hid the woman’s hair while a crown of gold and silver rays fanned out from her head like a bright halo. Her right hand and forearm was wrapped in white cloth, while the left in black. In each slender hand the woman held a long red swath of fabric that connected to her costume at each hip.

Raistlin knew instantly that it was Yurielle, for the pale skin did not fade.

She was holding absolutely still, awarding the crowd and him a full view of her perfectly sculpted back. Her skin was smooth, glowing in the light of orbs and glittering gold and silver from dust that was sprinkled across her skin. Her lean ribs narrowed to a slightly smaller waist then flared delicately out to well-proportioned hips. Small dimples glittered above the rim of her costume on her lower back. From somewhere in the crowd one of the drunken revelers leered rudely but he was quickly hushed and thrown out of the tent.

Raistlin sucked in a breath as he realized what was about to take place as the music suddenly began.

Very slowly her arms began to move to the rhythmic beating of drums, moving in drawn-out and even motions that exhibited skilled muscle control. She moved like a marionette, the effect of the backwards mask in juxtaposition to how her body moved was unsettling and odd to the viewers. The archmage noted how a few of the onlookers seemed disturbed by the unnatural sight of a seemingly backwards head upon the woman’s form as she moved her head, neck, and shoulders to create a surreal effect.

Raistlin however, watched absolutely transfixed by her movements. Slow and controlled, her hips began to join her arms to the beat of the music, the coins on her body adding to the sound. Slowly she rose and turned, as if a puppet on a string, the crowd gasped as a white mask shown over the woman’s face. White cloth over the eyes hid her orbs from them, adding to her mystery as they were rewarded for their patience with a sensual display of weaving hips and chest.

Silks and coins danced around her as she undulated and whirled. Suddenly she'd flip to the black side, then suddenly the white again. The dark side hard and stiff, mechanical in her movements. While the white was warm and inviting, the height of femininity and sexuality.

The effect was stunning and Raistlin saw the meaning behind her dance. The duality of her strange existence.

Raistlin tore his eyes off of her for but a heartbeat to gauge the crowd. Their wide eyes were transfixed on the beauty that performed on the stage, being completely spellbound by her odd dance. But only he knew why she danced this way. Only he knew her dark secret of the loss of her other half. He was the only one to have seen her drawings of a dancing woman her and her twin had seen so long ago.

Only he understood that Yurielle was a person who was trying to live two lives at once.

There was a hollow feeling inside Raistlin's chest as he realized that Yurielle danced because she was alive and the other half of her was dead. Her twin hadn't grown up to learn to dance like this and so Yurielle danced in memory of a childish dream she had once shared with her sister.

But, he also pondered as his eyes were drawn back to her, did she realize what else her dance revealed about herself? He saw the white nature of her soul hidden away beneath the black robes she wore. Of her light wrapped inside the darkness that she walked willingly into. The rebellious flirt hidden beneath the controlled exterior of a puppet belonging to the Conclave.

The dance wasn't long and it ended far too soon for those cursed eyes that only ever saw decay. For suddenly Yurielle slowed in her movements and, like a mechanical doll winding down, resumed the exact position she had held at the beginning. Black mask seemed to stare right at him, sucking him into their empty depths.

Her performance done, the curtain fell again. The crowd stirred, the enchantment of her dance broken, they began to clap and cheer. Coins and flowers were flung up onto the stage; cries for more could be heard. The other tumblers ran back and forth to collect the offerings and retrieve more gifts from those that stood at the steps leading up to the platform.

Another act took the stage minutes later and Raistlin could sense the disappointment in the crowd when they realized the mysterious dancer was not coming back. He could hear the people around him murmur in awe and wonder, for they had never seen the like. A talented dancer, Yurielle had awed the crowd with her performance and they would not forget it anytime soon.

Rousing himself, Raistlin pushed through the flap of the tent beside him and went back into the night. Like a shadow he made his way to the opening of an alley across the street to better watch the crowds depart, waiting to see if she'd appear.

He didn't need to wait long before Yurielle emerged through a doorway at the far end of the tent. She was dressed like a man, wearing a black tunic and gray pants tucked into dark doe skin boots. Her hair was freed of the red scarf but braided tight around her head in intricate braids, letting her long neck breathe. She was not wearing her usual plain black robes; she displayed nothing of her life to these people so they would know nothing of her as she tried to slip into the night unnoticed.

An older man suddenly appeared out of the the same opening she had used. Portly and balding, Raistlin had seen the gentleman calling to the crowd outside before her performance but he had paid the man no mind. Now the older man was holding out a bag in his hand. From where he was Raistlin could hear the jingle of coins as Yurielle pushed the bag back into the man's arms, firmly shaking her head. She smiled at his shocked face and he scooped her up into a big hug. Raistlin watched the woman as she kissed the old man's scruffy cheek before bowing low when he released her.

“Your name sweet child,” Raistlin could hear the gentleman ask at her back as she turned to go. “Please at least grace us with a name this time!”

“Auriell!” her voice rang out, clear as a bell through the night. “You may call me Auriell! I will see you next year then?”

The man nodded and bowed, clenching the coin purse to his chest. “That and every year to come dear child!”

Yurielle smiled, her face alight with warmth. Then, hitching her bag higher over her shoulder, she turned and made her way down the street into the crowd as the older man looked on.

The woman wove through the night, so caught up in the high of her dance that she failed to notice the darkness that trailed her through the colorful festival.

Raistlin watched as she stopped at a few booths to take in the scenes and the wares, watched her buy herself a candied apple and a brightly patterned scarf as well as a few other small baubles that she hid into her pockets. He watched as she danced alone with herself on the side of the street where others had gathered to listen to the minstrels. A few brave men approached her and asked to join her. The archmage could see her fluster as that blush never failed to creep up her neck as she politely declined and excused herself, fleeing back into the crowd as if embarrassed by the attention.

All the while she smiled, all the while as she walked the crowds she was chatting with the people around her, enchanting everyone with her dimples and kindness. She even sat and talked to a group of kender that had gathered at a puppet show. Her own laughter carrying just as loud and clear as theirs over the din of the festival as they oohed and awed and giggled at the silly show.

Apparently happy to make a new friend the kender suddenly ushered her off and Raistlin lost sight of her for a while. It took him some time before he found her again. They had brought her to a fire juggler and she seemed all too eager to sit and enjoy the show with the pesky beings. As she sat with them, Raistlin watched as one by one her newly acquired baubles in her pockets were pilfered by the little rats. Even the scarf that she had wound around her neck somehow managed to disappear.

But he alone saw her eyes twinkle for she knew exactly what they were doing.

He blinked in realization; she had bought the items as 'gifts' for these people knowing they would swipe each and every one off her person. The easily reached items in her pockets kept their sticky fingers out of her bag that she held against her chest as she sat amongst them.

It was a simple trick that Raistlin himself had used when in the presence of Tasslehoff Burrfoot, a kender he had known for many years. Place a simple, ordinary yet bright or shiny object in a pocket to quickly distract a kender from finding anything of more value.

Soon the kender had spotted something else and all of them ran off, completely forgetting their newest friend. The distraction allowed Yurielle to slip back into the crowd, a smile on her face as she replaced the bag onto her back. Raistlin still followed well out of sight as she took in a few more shows and chatted with the locals.

As he watched her, the mage realized that she was eager for normal conversation with ordinary folks. A life hidden away in a tower afforded her few new interactions. When she did get out, he understood how the masses viewed and treated black robes.

All of a sudden she seemed so very lonely to his eyes.

That hollowness he had felt during her dance turned into an ache at seeing this within her, at realizing how small and fragile she was. Suddenly the archmage felt like that snake within his fever dream, a serpent endlessly spinning within a void of nothing... that vast loneliness rearing up inside him in response to seeing it within her. The abrupt sensation overwhelmed him for many moments, the rawness tightened in his chest making him cough. He stifled the sound in his thick sleeve, fearing she'd somehow overhear him. The spasm eventually passed and Yurielle gave no indication that she had heard him as she continued through the festivities.

Finally he saw her stifle a yawn behind her still bandaged hand and she seemed to take notice of the time. Her eyes scanned the street, both to get her bearings as well as if she were searching for something.

Or someone.

Those indigo orbs roamed over the shadow where Raistlin had concealed himself. She couldn't see the black robed wizard whose robes were darker than the depths of the alleyway where he hid. He saw her give a slight shrug of her shoulders as she eventually turned and made her way back to her inn.

 

***

 

Yurielle had thoroughly enjoyed herself tonight. She had danced and mingled with the crowd without fear of reproach, talked to many people and delighted in the few hours of being just another person in a crowd. But now she was tired from her late evening the previous night and the rigors of her errands during the day.

Looking around once more she did not see Raistlin.

She never expected him to come, it was a silly fancy and she knew it. A part of her was vastly relieved just as a part of her had held onto a tiny sliver of hope that perhaps the reclusive mage would really leave his Tower for a night out on the town. But no, he had already forgotten about her. Letting it go she gave a shrug and turned to leave the festival that would still run for several more hours into the night.

Her thoughts were turned inward now as she thought about her preparations for returning to Wayreth and the stacks of tomes, books, and cursed artifacts that were sure to be waiting for her on her working desk. A curse breakers work was never done among the never ending comings and goings at the Tower at Wayreth. For mages were always finding something to add to the archives that needed her skills just as young students were always misusing a spell, causing it to backfire in odd ways.

She tried very hard not to think about what Raistlin had brought up to her earlier. His words stirred up too many questions, too much uncertainty and self-doubt inside of her. These feelings made her feel guilty, for the Conclave and wizards at Wayreth had given her a home.

They were her family. She had no right to question them in such harsh ways.

Turning down a side street every hair on her body stood on end as the tell-tale rustle of thick velvet robes and the even thread of light footsteps soon gave him away as he came into step beside her out of nowhere.

“Found you...” he said. His voice was light and playful in his usual whisper.

Yurielle smiled but didn't look at him, “Tsk tsk! I'm no longer at the festival. It's cheating to just hang around at my inn to see when I'll get back Raistlin. I'm afraid you lose,” she risked a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He had his hood up so she could not see his features.

“Perhaps I've been following you for quite some time.”

She shrugged, “You can't prove it.”

He chuckled and he turned to her now, the light from the row of lanterns above them glittered in his eyes brightly as they passed under them. “Very well, play your game. I received a far better reward than a simple kiss.”

Yurielle froze and watched him take a few steps ahead of her before he paused and turned back to meet her wide eyes. The glow of a nearby streetlamp played on his metallic skin as he regarded her, the runes on his robes flashed as he turned.

“Your sister would be proud of you,” he said softly but his words were loud in her ringing ears, “Auriell.” He spoke the name that she had created using her own and that of her dead twin.

A sob escaped her mouth before she could hush it with her bandaged hand. Squeezing her eyes shut she couldn't look at him.

Raistlin came up to her then and stood just inches in front of her and leaned on the Staff of Magius as he studied her. His eyes watched as the heat rushed to her face as she fought back tears of sadness and embarrassment.

Yurielle wiped her eyes. There weren't many tears, just a sorrow that still ached after all this time. “I dance for her... for the memory of a dream we once shared,” she said quietly. “For one night... I become her. So she is never lost.”

“But yet you tell your own story when you dance?”

Her eyes snapped up to him, to meet his knowing look. She seemed unable to breathe.

“The common folk may not be able to see the tale you wove this night,” he stated in his usual murmuring voice. “But I did...”

Words failed her.

“Come,” he said after several moments as he held out an arm to her, pulling her from her thoughts. “Let me escort you back to your inn fair Yurielle. I wish to see that you arrive safely.”

Tentatively she wordlessly looped her arm through his and was instantly within his aura of warmth that he gave off. It was comforting in a strange way, being inside that haze of various scents that clung to him, they made her feel at ease. After a time, once she had regained her composure, she asked softly, “How much did you see?”

“All of it,” he replied. “You dance exquisitely. You should have seen the spell you wove on the crowd.”

She snorted then, “You think so highly of watching a corpse dance? You're into some weird stuff dark mage.”

He blinked, suddenly realizing that she had no idea how different she was for him, that she didn't understand fully what he meant when he said that he saw her. For tell her he did, when they had stood together last night beneath the black moon. He chuckled lightly without comment; he'd gladly keep it secret then.

They turned down the street with the Sage's Rest now in view. The lower level was filled with lights and patrons could be seen coming and going as Sarel had kept the kitchens open. The two mages could see that many people had stayed late to enjoy the music, food, and dancing of their own away from the main crowds of the festival.

Raistlin's stride slowed and he halted them halfway down the lane. “Think on my offer Yurielle. You are welcome to study your art here in Palanthas if you truly wished it. The Conclave would not be able to stop you.”

“Why are you so insistent in this?” the woman asked, her eyes on the inns patrons, not wanting to meet his gaze. She really didn't want to talk about this anymore. It made her extremely uncomfortable knowing that he had made her question so much in so short a time.

He was silent for a moment before he replied, “We all need to be free Yurielle. I do not follow the Conclave because I will not live under another person's ideal. I make my own way and make my own choices. I took the black robes out of necessity to get close to the Dark Goddess. Then, as her weapon against her enemies, I stabbed her in the back, keeping her in the Abyss. Tell me, am I praised for what I've done?” he asked rhetorically. “No. They only focus on the fact that I did not ask them first,” he answered coldly when she said nothing.

He paused to cough slightly, the night air had grown damp and his lungs were beginning to bother him again. “You have a gift unlike anything I've witnessed or thought possible. They keep you close because they cannot abide the thought of you doing things for yourself, without their control or say. I want you to be free as I want all mages to be able to make their own choices. We all live by the magic, we all understand in our very core the balance we maintain. We no longer need an outdated system to watch over us.”

He was looking at her; she could feel his eyes burning into her.

“I would ask you even if you were a white robe Yurielle. It matters not for it is the magic we should live for, not the will of others,” his voice was now steady and strong as he spoke to her. “Keeping you within Wayreth is wrong when there is so much you can be learning about yourself out in the wide world. This other magic that you wield belongs to YOU, not to them.”

Yurielle listened to him silently. The truth of his words stung her deeply. Drawing her arm out of his she readjusted her bag on her shoulder, the sound of tinkling coins from her costume filled the night for a moment. “I... I will try to consider it. There are more factors than you know Raistlin... I am of value at Wayreth, whether I want to stay there or not. Despite what you think, I do actually like doing what they ask of me there.” Her eyes finally left the inn to look at him. After the bright lights of the building, the darkness around the archmage seemed deep and all-consuming until her eyes adjusted as she continued, “Dusty books and cursed items are what I live for after all.”

She shuffled uncomfortably under his intense gaze. He didn't seem to by buying her reasons. “Besides, if I did accept your offer, you need to realize that your current apprentice and I will just fight like two cats in a sack.”

He smirked at that. “Dalamar will behave if you behave. All he needs is a reminder of who is master in the Tower. Besides,” he echoed the word back at her, “I sometimes think I'm a rather boring companion for the dark elf. He could use a chatterbox like you around.”

Yurielle snorted again, “You fail to realize how annoying I can be. Ask him, he's already well aware... he'd probably even say that I'm bossy.” She said and tore her eyes off him to return to the revelers at the inn.

Raistlin felt himself chuckle slightly. “That fact, fair curse breaker, I've already figured out for myself!” The mage then found himself running the back of his hand along her jaw in order to fully turn her face back to his.

She allowed him to turn her to meet his gaze with that too warm hand of his. Her eyes glittered with reflected lamp and starlight in the silence that followed.

“I suppose you want your reward now?” she asked quietly, her voice shook ever so slightly as that beautiful flush colored her cheeks.

Dropping his hand away, Raistlin took a step back from her, “My reward was the dance you didn't intend for me to see,” he said simply and offered her a refined bow. “Goodbye Yurielle. I am glad to have met you.” As he said it, Raistlin was surprised to realize how much he actually meant it. Turning, he began his long walk back to his Tower, for walk all the way he would, he found that he needed time to sort through his thoughts.

“Goodbye Raistlin...” her musical voice called softly as he left.

He was nearly to the end of the lane again when he heard her cuss, “Damn it all to the Abyss!” Turning he was suddenly met with her face in his, her hands on either side of him pulling him down to her height. With only a slight hesitation she pressed her soft lips quickly against his. She lingered there for a heartbeat then broke away.

“Take your reward Raistlin Majere, you dark bastard,” she scolded with a smile, her words held no bite in them. Her eyes glittering mischievously as her fingers played along her tingling lips. “Until we meet again archmage...” with that she turned and hurried to the inn.

The archmage just stood there in the middle of the street and watched her leave. For the third time in only a few days, Raistlin Majere was left speechless.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been going through previous chapters and editing errors and fixing silly word mix-ups. I'd like to thank ChangeMadnessRubinia for all of your help in pointing them out! These things will be common and I appreciate everyone sticking with me! I hope you enjoyed the newest chapter. :D


	14. Tower of High Sorcery, Wayreth

Sometimes Yurielle hated being right. The second day on the journey back to the Tower in Wayreth, it began to snow. She knew that the farther south they went on their travel, the warmer it would get. But they were unable to get ahead of it and this sudden snowstorm slowed the caravan considerably. Quickly she had become cold, wet, and miserable as she was charged with working her magic to keep the wagons from getting stuck in the muck and ice. By the time they reached the ship harbor in Starport, she was sick with a nasty cold. She spent most of the voyage to Porliost on the borders of the elven lands of Qualinesti bedridden.

When she finally made it home to the Wayreth, she slept sick in bed for almost another week. Part of her irrationally blamed her kiss with Raistlin as the reason for the sudden illness. But doing so only made her think of him, and annoyingly to her fevered mind, miss him. “Stupid cursed golden mage,” she would often mutter to herself as she healed. Though she knew it wasn't his fault, she just couldn't get him out of her head.

Slowly she recovered enough to return to her duties and sat at her desk dismayed at the backlog of scrolls and translations that needed her attention. As she worked, days passed into weeks and before she knew it, two whole months had passed as her life returned to normal at Wayreth.

Eventually a day came where Yurielle found herself on top of a walkway along one of the three walls that boarded the main towers of Wayreth. Late winter snow was drifting down on her as she stood alone, taking in the view of the dark forest beyond the wall.

Even after these two months, it was times like this when she was alone and her mind unoccupied, that her thoughts drifted back to Palanthas. To the secretive man with soft golden skin and hard cursed eyes. To the grove occupied with death and horrors, to that dark tower filled with forbidden books, and the warm inviting study with the cozy chairs by the fire.

To the feel of those lips on her skin....

Leaning heavily on the stone wall she looked out at the enchanted forest that surrounded the Tower of Wayreth, her mind far off as her hair and shoulders were soon dusted with soft snow. Vaguely she heard the crunch of someones boots on the ice encrusted walkway as they passed behind her without a word of hello. No one ever paid her any mind.

The only people who ever sought her out were the Heads of the Conclave or another scribe from the library within the Tower. Occasionally a stray mage with a curse mishap dared approach her in secret if they were too embarrassed to find help elsewhere, but that was rare.

So lost in her thoughts was Yurielle that she did not notice that another set of footsteps arrived and had stopped near her. Finally the faint rustling of robes and a louder thud of a staff against the snow made her casually glance to her right. She nearly fell on her ass in the ice coated walkway, so surprised was she as she backed up. “Raistlin!”

Indeed it was him, standing a few feet from her, wearing thick black robes and a heavy cloak trimmed in dark black fur. His hood was up so that it hid most of his face but she saw that smirk play on his golden mouth as he watched her react from within the shadows of his hood. “Yurielle,” he said politely with a slight incline of his head. “It is good to see you.”

The woman stood there, her arm on the short stone wall where she had caught herself before falling. Straightening and getting her footing, she tried to scowl at him but she found that her face was not cooperating as a smile was on her face instead. “Nuitari's wrinkled ass Raistlin you gave me a heart attack!” Her feet nearly slipped out from under her again but she deftly caught herself. “You have a sick sense of humor getting amusement from scaring me like that!”

“Perhaps. But then again you _are_ easy to startle,” he agreed quietly in that low voice of his. Yurielle didn't remember it sounding so smooth and alluring.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she took a slow step closer to him, testing her footing before trusting that she wasn't going to fall and make a fool of herself in front of him.

“I had matters to discuss with Par-Salian,” he stated. “But I thought I'd take a moment before I departed to see how you were doing as well as ask for your kindness once again for another of your tinctures.”

Her eyes lit up, “Did it work?!”

He nodded slightly, “It has helped considerably fair Yurielle. Better than I could have hoped for. You truly are a master of your craft.”

She smiled wider then, his voice did sound stronger and it was far less raspy. “But of course Raistlin. It would be my honor to provide another for you!”

He came up to her and offered his arm, “Then, if you have the time, let us go prepare it. The sooner the better so I can be out of your way and free of this place.”

Nodding, Yurielle accepted his arm, looping hers through his and coming up beside him. As their eyes met she heard a very quiet, “We are being watched Yurielle,” she noted that his lips didn't move even though he had clearly spoken.

“This way Raistlin,” she said without giving any indication that he had said anything. “My quarters are in the far wing. I keep my supplies and herbs there. It will take no time at all.”

Raistlin nodded and let her lead him down the quiet corridors of one of the smaller towers within Wayreth. Not many mages were out and about at this time of day. It was mid-morning and most of the occupants were still in study before breaking for meals at noon. Yurielle had been taking an early break from her work, finding she needed to clear her head. It HAD been working until he had shown up. But now suddenly he was there, as if straight out of her thoughts.

For a while they walked in silence, her slender arm looped through his, heart pounding in her chest. She had only been in his presence for a small number of days, and that had been months ago. This shouldn't feel so... normal. Unbidden, she felt her cheeks flush and prayed that if he noticed, he would think it were form the cold.

“How is the weather in Palanthas?” she asked casually as they walked even as her eyes scanned the halls and rooms they passed, trying to view if they were being followed. Seeing nothing, she figured it was more likely they were being magically scried upon. Once they would reach her room they would have more freedom to talk as she had wards in her living space as all mages did, it was a measure they all took to keep their privacy from one another. So until then, she kept their small talk innocuous and simple. The weather was as bland as conversation got.

“Cold,” came his terse reply. “Unusually so this year and more snow has fallen on the city than the locals know what to do with.”

“I've never seen Palanthas during the winter. I bet it's beautiful,” she commented as she turned them down another hall.

He snorted quietly from within his hood, “It's cold. I dislike venturing out into it unless I have absolute need.”

“You're here though,” Yurielle said. “It's just as cold at Wayreth as it is in Palanthas.”

“Indeed,” she heard the scowl in his voice. “I am glad I inquired as to what the weather was before I left.”

She grinned quietly to herself at his complaining for they both knew that Par-Salian could make the weather at Wayreth whatever he wished it to be. The fact that he chose to mimic the outside region around the enchanted forest was always something that visitors would grumble about. One would think that the old wizard would enjoy warmth and sunshine daily. Anyone visiting with that frame of mind was always quickly disappointed with the opposite.

“This is me,” she said when they came to a small door at the end of a long hall. Waving her hand in a certain way they heard a small click as she disabled the lock. Opening it she let him enter first before following. Closing the door she relocked it with her spell and added a stronger ward and silence shield before turning to him. Raistlin was acting as if he were looking around her small room, taking in her meager possessions. He gave her bed and little bookshelf the briefest of glances. Living at Wayreth was by no means a glamorous life and Yurielle's possessions reflected her simple living.

She went to ask something but he held up a hand, his eyes roamed the room, studying it with a careful eye. He left her side and slowly stalked around the space, his staff quietly thudding on the floor as he paced.

Yurielle busied herself with adding more wood to her tiny iron stove and removed her snow speckled cloak. “Can I offer you some tea?” she asked, figuring it was a harmless question as she shook out the snowflakes in her hair.

His eyes darted to her, “That would be most kind,” he nodded. He took one more slow lap around the space before stopping beside her. “Your wards seem sufficient. I believe we may talk freely, but quietly,” he stated lowly as he took the seat she offered him beside the warm stove.

Raistlin watched her then as she busied herself with starting their tea, his golden gaze tracking her. He watched her silently, content to once again be able to view something other than constant death and decay. As he observed her, Raistlin Majere wasn't expecting to find how glad he was to actually see her. Unbidden his mind recalled the unexpected silence that was left in her absence after she departed his presence.

It had been two long months since she had visited Palanthas and Raistlin could still remember those first few days after she had left. Try as he might, he could not get the burning of her lips off of his. That perfect face of hers was etched behind his eyelids, tormenting him every time he blinked or looked at another person. He became far more irritable and Dalamar was quick to point it out as nearly every interaction with his apprentice ended with a snarl and cold dismissal. Then a strange melancholy had set in, one that lasted for weeks. Raistlin couldn't find the heart to do much except sit in his study, quiet amongst his books, brooding for hours on end as winter deepened on the city of Palanthas.

As he brooded, he tried to puzzle through the riddle that her existence presented to him. Tried in vain to solve what the source of her other magic could be and most importantly, pondered why his cursed vision did not change her. It was a maddening distraction to his other work. Finally after nearly three weeks had passed, he dove back into his plans and research with new vigor and purpose.

Raistlin then poured over every journal and spellbook of Fistandantilus that he had within his Tower, trying to solve how he could break the link between them and ultimately destroy the lich. He had learned much over those weeks of study, and was finally beginning to be able to piece together the gaps of what must have happened during his Test all those years ago.

Slowly Raistlin began to remember that he had struck a deal with the ancient entity known as Fistandantilus. Not only that, he also learned that much of his continued frail health had to do with the undead being. For the lich had anchored himself to Raistlin's heart and lungs, making breathing that much more difficult. But it had to be so, or else Raistlin would have failed his Test. His choice was to accept the help of the archlich, or die. And so Fistandantilus had aided him in destroying the foe that he had faced. But, when the archlich had gone to claim his prize, Raistlin had resisted him. His skin now gleamed gold from the magical shield, making it far harder for the lich to outright take and crush Raistlin's soul.

Even with the magical barrier, the two were still linked. The lich unable to fully take Raistlin's body as a new host, and Raistlin unable to be completely untouched by the ever draining leech. The archmage already knew that the lich was using Raistlin's life force to keep himself alive but, it seemed that in return Fistandantilus had been offering magical knowledge to Raistlin. The dead mage had given Raistlin the words to speak and means to understand spells far above his level when times were desperate for the young man.

Like it or not, Fistandantilus was the reason Raistlin had lived through many trials.

This did not sit well with the Hourglass Mage, for he loathed to be in anyone’s debt. Raistlin's power was his own, but he came to understand that he had risen so quickly in his knowledge only because of the lich's help.

Raistlin was also beginning to fear that Fistandantilus had a hand in several of his pursuits and ideas through the years. For several hazy memories from his past had begun to resurface the more and more he exposed the lich within his mind.

The most galling gap in his memory were those fateful last hours of the end of the War. He never could quite put together what exactly had happened below the Temple in Neraka after Lord Ariakas had been defeated by the companions. He knew that something pivotal had taken place, something life changing. Up until now all he remembered fully was leaving his brother before flying away upon the wings of the green dragon Cyan Bloodbane. Then, he had walked into the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas and claimed it as his own.

But now, now Raistlin understood that during those gaps in his memory, Fistandantilus had been there in some way. After those moments were over, the lich hid the memory, blurred them in such a way that Raistlin would just brush the gaps off due to fatigue of the moment. But now he realized he had been duped to thinking that, duped into a false sense of security that all he needed was rest in order to recover. And now the lich was smug in the fact that he had been able to hide for so long within the young and ignorant Raistlin. Festering for years inside of the man, silently draining him, gaining power. As Raistlin himself stayed stagnant in his debilitated physical state.

This was unacceptable to Raistlin. His mind and body were his own, if his suspicions were true and the lich had somehow influenced him... then it was time to be free of him. This was his top priority now. Godhood would wait, for he knew he would be stronger without the ever draining influence of the archlich.

However, now that he was fully aware of the lich, Raistlin nearly constantly felt the others presence in one way or another. In defense, he had quickly honed his senses to the invasion of his being and there was always a lingering feeling of the others essence around him. Always it felt as if lich's cold breath were on his skin. The lich's thoughts prickling inside Raistlin's mind like cobwebs he could not clear.

There was also the whispering. Without constant mental vigilance, the voice of the archlich began to slither into Raistlin's mind more and more. Into his thoughts, into his dreams, and into his nightmares. For the night terrors had grown worse for the mage. Not a night seemed to go by when he wasn't woken by his own screams or thrashing. The dreams would always quickly fade, leaving only vague images like those of his fever dream behind.

It was a problem Raistlin had to deal with and soon. The mage knew that he could not continue as he was if he was to have any sanity left to ascend to godhood.

Thus was his reason for his visit here.

He had several theories of how to solve his problem, but the more he searched, the more he was convinced that he needed help. He needed Yurielle and her strange power. If she could see magic around her, see the essence of a caster within a spell, sense the lich around him outside of his shield... then there must be a way for her to help him.

 _'So much for not using her for any purpose,'_ he thought bitterly.

But, he reminded himself yet again as he gazed at her, she had offered her assistance freely. Just this once, perhaps Raistlin would allow himself to be in another person's debt.

Right now however, he put all of the last two months from his mind. No more thought did he give to night terrors or whispers, to lich's and dark bargains made. To the never ending nothingness that gnawed inside of him.

For, now that he sat with Yurielle in her tiny room, Raistlin found that he truly was glad - happy even - to see her. It was as if just being in her presence was a balm to every dark thought and nightmare he had experienced since she had left Palanthas.

This, more than anything, reaffirmed his need of her in his plans. He needed her opposite energy around him. He needed to learn more about her, to solve the riddle of this strange magic she wielded and saw the world differently with. The gods were perhaps mocking him, but they were rarely subtle in their dealings with mortals.

“How have you been?” she asked as she set down her supplies on the table between them, drawing him from his thoughts. “Your voice _is_ stronger and I can't hear you breathing from a mile away.”

“I was never _that_ bad,” he shot back but his words held none of their usual snarl. He seemed almost pleased as she observed him. “How about you? I heard you were quite ill after you left Palanthas.”

She looked up at him, “Your apprentice tell you that?” she asked quietly as the teapot started whistling and she went to fill two mugs with steaming water. She added dried dandelion root to hers and set his hot water in front of him, expecting him to add his usual mixture.

“I'll try what you're having,” he said with a small smirk at her surprised look. “Dandelion root?”

She nodded, “I find I enjoy the earthy flavor in the winter.”

“But to answer your question, yes,” he continued, “my apprentice is a wealth of information,” he said carefully as she made noise with preparing his tea with the requested root.

Yurielle arched an eyebrow at him and gave him a knowing look. “He is indeed as I was quite sick for a while. My caravan hit a delay in the journey home due to the snowstorm. I wasn't properly dressed and caught a bad chill. But it was nothing that a few days in bed and an endless supply of tea couldn't fix.”

A frown played at the corner of his mouth at this, “One would think you'd have learned your lesson with frost...” he idly commented as he accepted the tea she held out for him and sipped it. Rich and earthy, he found he enjoyed the taste more than he had anticipated.

“So how much have your lungs improved?” she asked, that scholarly tone taking over as she began to bring over various herbs and bottles from where they rested on a shelf.

“I was hoping you'd take another listen and tell me,” he met her wide eyes then, those hourglass orbs twinkled at her with a hint of a dare. For Yurielle had been right about one thing, without the rawness in his lungs, overall Raistlin did feel better. Lich or no, the fact that his lungs were not as painful, gave him much comfort. Above that even, Raistlin's new found physical comfort seemed to irritate Fistandantilus to no end.

The surprise on her face faded quickly at his words and she gave him a tiny scowl of her own, trying to guess the game he was playing. Finally she nodded, “Very well, stand up and take that thick cloak off so I hear.”

He lowered his hood as he stood and removed the fur lined cloak, adding it to hers over the small stool within reach. Standing next to her, Yurielle noted that he did indeed seem a bit taller now, not so hunched in on himself. She eyed him as she stepped in closer into his halo of heat and aura of spices and spell components. Standing still he waited patiently as she leaned down slightly to lay her ear against his chest. He was taller than her, but only by a few inches.

“Breathe Raistlin,” she said, humor in her voice.

He realized he had once again been holding his breath. He was so used to avoiding physical contact that he had involuntarily frozen when she had approached him. With a tiny chuckle against her ear he obeyed and took in a lungful of air, relishing in the feel of life giving oxygen as it filled his lungs.

She listened to him breathe, a smile spreading across her face as she went from one side of his chest to the other. There was still some very faint crackling, still a tiny hint of a rattle of damaged tissue, but the difference was nearly night and day from the last time she had listened. “Raistlin this is amazing!” Yurielle exclaimed, looking up into his face. “I was hoping it would help you but I honestly didn't expect this!”

She was beaming at him; those indigo eyes glittered excitedly for him. No look of pity or revulsion had ever entered the eyes of Yurielle when she was around Raistlin and he was suddenly deeply moved by this fact.

Without thinking, he took her hand in his, “I told you that you have a gift. I'm eternally in your debt Yurielle. Nothing I say or do can ever repay you...” he said softly, running his warm thumb over her knuckles.

She flushed then, her eyes trapped in his as they stared at each other in the silence of the room. Unbidden, she heard herself whisper, “I missed you...”

Raistlin sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. So very quietly he asked, “What are you Yurielle? Two long months... and still you hold this power over me...”

Her hand tightening in his caused him to meet those midnight iris's, “Why Raistlin...” she whispered to him for the second time since knowing him. “I'm just me.”

“Indeed,” he replied, same as last time.

Like that night, so long ago in the inn where she had taken him when he had fallen ill, the emptiness stilled within Raistlin's chest. There was a calmness as he looked into the dark blue eyes of hers. He felt himself relax, the deep scowl lines eased around his eyes and mouth.

“And...” she dared break the silence, unsure how to bring the subject up. “And what of your other 'problem'?”

“He is still a problem,” Raistlin confirmed quietly, his thumb still running lightly over her soft hand within his. “Now that I am aware of him, he seems intent on making life miserable. But... one obstacle at a time...”

“I have tried to look for anything that may help you,” she confessed. “But I'm afraid that they've kept me quite busy since I got back.”

Raistlin was touched by the fact that she had attempted to find information to help him. He was about to say as much when suddenly that unreadable mask flew up before his face, the hard lines returned. Hourglass eyes darted to her doorway, “They are here...” he growled, low and menacing.

Yurielle's eyes grew wide, not understanding his severe shift in demeanor. It was alarming at how fast he went from calm and almost gentle, to a look of such anger and contempt.

A loud pounding sounded on her door. She whirled out of his warm grasp and stepped away from him. “What's going on Raistlin?” she whispered.

“I am afraid my welcome here has run out,” his voice was cold as he flung his cloak around himself again. Fabric rustled like raven's wings as it settled around his lean frame.

“What...?” she asked as a second fist hammered at her door, this time louder. Voices were shouting her name now.

He grabbed the Staff of Magius from where he had set it against the wall. “I may have taken something of value, and poked the hornets' nest for good measure,” he sneered, his eyes on the door before they shot to hers. “Come with me Yurielle,” he held a golden hand out to her invitingly. “They don't need you here anymore, I've seen to that.”

“I don't understand!” she cried as now a loud bang was heard and the door jerked on its hinges. “I can't leave!”

He came forward and grabbed her wrist; his grip was firm, almost painful. “Yurielle,” he said evenly. “Either you come with me now, or you will come to me later. You have no place here! You are just their prisoner. You know it, I know it!”

She gasped but the sound came out more like a sob as the door behind them shuddered again violently. Yurielle could hear yelling, demands that she open the door. Tearing her arm from his grasp she backed away, “I.... I can't...”

“You can Yurielle...” he said firmly, his hand still held out to her, golden palm open. “You must!”

“No I _can't!_ ” she cried, suddenly scared of everything as the sound at her door grew louder and the realization of what was actually happening began to sink into her mind. She was trapped and afraid like she had never been before. Afraid of the Tower, of the mages behind her, of the magic, and even of Raistlin. “I have to stay... I must... I must keep the balance....”

He took a step towards her, “What balance Yurielle?”

She put her hands to her ears; she could feel the heat on the door behind her. They were casting fireballs against the wood and her mind prickled as her wards began to fail and be taken down by those with magic stronger than her. “I don't know... I can't remember!”

Once again Raistlin grasped her arm. “Stay then,” he all but growled. His voice was empty with disappointment. “Stay and see. Stay and learn their lies!” His eyes studied her face for a heartbeat, when he spoke again his voice and eyes softened ever so slightly. “When you finally cut their strings from you, then come to me. Only then can we begin.”

“Begin what?” she managed to say between panicked sobs as flames began to lick around the edges of her door.

He released her and stepped back to the empty corner of her tiny room. “Our destiny, my dear Yurielle.”

The door exploded behind her then, splintering into a thousand flaming shards. She barely had time to throw up a protective barrier to shield herself as the heat flared into the room. Her eyes were locked on Raistlin's, he gave her an approving smirk as he finished his incantation. When the last rune was traced in the air he disappeared in a flash and whirl of light and golden stars.

Yurielle felt every warding spell, the fire behind her, as well as her own barrier, all be silenced and dispelled in the instant before he flashed out of existence. He had undone every spell in this wing of the Tower. She could only stare in awe and terror at his power as her quarters were flooded with mages, Par-Salian and the other leaders of the Conclave were among them.

“Oh my sweet child...” Par-Salian said from beside her once they all realized their target had escaped. “What have you done?”

Slowly she turned to look at him. Indigo eyes met ancient sky blue.

The old wizard wasn't angry. He was just sad.

Yurielle could not fathom the look of deep regret that the Head of the Conclave was giving her, the look that all three of them were giving her now as the red and black robes joined the old man's side. Ice filled her veins, for Yurielle suddenly felt like her time had run out without ever knowing her time had been limited to begin with.

 

 

 


	15. Lies, Truth, and Revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! I wanted to treat everyone with a bonus chapter today!  
> Thanks again for joining me on this story!  
> Enjoy friends!

Yurielle found herself in a dark room sitting on a chair surrounded by the heads of the three orders of wizards. Par-Salian of the white robes and High Mage of all three orders stood before her. Justarius, head of the red robes and Ladonna of the black, each flanked her. The three stared at her, their eyes hard and cold as they studied her intently. Few words had they said to her since they brought her here three days ago.

Yurielle eyed them each in turn, feeling very small as she endured their silence, their soundless staring and quiet judging.

Finally Ladonna spoke; her cold voice was like a knife in the stillness. “Kill her! She is a disgrace to the magehood and we've allowed this abomination walk far too long upon Krynn! I will no longer suffer her to wear the black robes!”

“Ladonna!” Par-Salian snapped. He was old and brittle but his voice still held its bite when his anger was roused. “You will hold your tongue!” The old man's eyes now rested on Yurielle once more, softening at the sight of her frightened face. “My dear, do you know why you are here?”

Yurielle chewed her lip. “I can only assume it's because Raistlin Majere came to see me....”

“What did he want with you sweet child?” the old man asked.

“He asked for more tincture.... for his lungs. I had made him some when I was in Palanthas,” she said meekly.

“What else did he say to you?”

Yurielle blinked, “Nothing Master... we made small talk while I prepared tea. We were interrupted by the fireballs against my door!”

“She's lying!” Ladonna hissed, glaring at her fellow black robe with those hard gray eyes. “I told you Par-Salian, letting her go to Palanthas was the worst blunder you've ever made! And you have made so very many in your long years...”

The old man glared at the woman yet said nothing.

“Why would he need more tincture from you Yurielle?” Justarius spoke now, ignoring his fellows.

Yurielle looked down into her lap and played with the hem of her robe with her slender fingers. “It helped him... it made his lungs better.”

“Impossible!” Ladonna exclaimed.

“Dear he was just lying to you,” Par-Salian said gently. “Nothing can heal that man...”

Yurielle looked up at him; he suddenly looked ancient to her. Wisps of gray hair floated around his wrinkled face but bright blue eyes still held the same power and wisdom that he held as a young man. “My herbs did... I know he spoke truly. I listened to his lungs, they were far improved!” she insisted.

“How did you prepare this tincture for him?” Justarius asked gently. Yurielle didn't like looking at him. In this harsh light his robes made him look like he was covered in blood. But Justarius had always been kind to her; kind yet distant.

“Same as I always do,” she said. “I feel the herb in my heart. I listen to its song and make a melody to harmonize and reverse the ailment...”

Her voice trailed off as the three powerful mages stared at her like she was speaking a different language. “The magic does not work that way child,” the white robe said softly in that gentle voice he always used. “We've told you this... all of that nonsense is just in your head.”

Yurielle bit her lip, her eyes burned. They knew that it wasn't, but they refused to let her use her abilities here. Even when she broke curses for them, they refused to even try to understand how she did it. They didn't let her sing; they never let her explore what was inside of her. Instead they trapped it, forced her to lock it away inside herself telling her it was nonsense.

Raistlin was right, it was so clear to her now. They had caged her.

“What does Raistlin Majere want with you?” the red robe spoke up again, as if hearing Yurielle's thoughts about the archmage. “He does nothing without purpose.”

Yurielle shrugged, trying to act as if this were all so very normal. “I told you two months ago. He doesn't want anything from me! We met under the Great Library and I visited his Tower. He's powerful and has a fascinating curse that I have never seen nor heard of before. Why would I not wish to learn more about him?”

“We have a hard time believing what you say! Raistlin Majere does not just invite guests into his Tower for tea and biscuits!” the old woman sneered, her dark gray hair was like a river or frozen silver in the low light of the room. “Do you know what he did when he got here little girl?”

“Ladonna...” Par-Salian warned but the black robe continued, ignoring her once and former lover. Only their magic and a mutual respect of each other's positions kept their relationship on friendly terms.

The old woman reached into her robes and flung down a bag onto Yurielle's lap. It clinked and rattled as it landed with a heavy thud, the top opened and a few coins spilled out onto the fabric of her robes. “He tried to buy you from us... I think I understand what Majere wants,” she said darkly and leaned down close to Yurielle's face. “What does it feel like? To be bought like some prized broodmare? What else did you do in that tower to have the Master of the Past and the Present slobber all over you like some piece of meat?”

Yurielle's eyes refused to leave the bag that lay on her lap. Shakily she took one of the gold coins in her fingers. He had paid off her debt and by the looks of it; he had done so many times over.

“Yurielle, child,” the old man tore her eyes from the bag and up into his face with a gentle hand on her chin. “Ignore her. He paid off your debt to us in full, nothing more. But unfortunately that is not all he did while he was here... Do you know what he took from this place?”

Yurielle shook her head; her auburn hair was undone and cascaded around her shoulders. “No Master, I do not....”

“Have you heard of Fistandantilus?”

“Of course I have Master,” she replied docilely. “I would be a poor wizard indeed if I didn't know about Fistandantilus.”

Yurielle hated it here, hated being questioned by her mentors for no reason. More than that, she hated questioning everything she thought she knew about these people surrounding her and of her role here at Wayreth. Yurielle had been doing a lot of questioning lately. She should have gone with him...

“Tell us then child, what is his connection to Raistlin Majere?” Justarius asked.

Yurielle tried to not show any reaction to the question but Ladonna warned, “Remember child, we know if you're lying to us.”

The young woman lowered her eyes again, “I... I'm not for sure certain,” she stammered. “But Rai-, Master Majere,” she quickly corrected, “and I both came to the conclusion that it was Fistandantilus who is draining his life force... its part of why his health is so poor. Somehow the two of them became linked. We came to guess that it probably happened during his Test.”

“How did you put this information together?” Par-Salian asked, curiously she noted the three mages lock eyes with one another.

“Master,” Yurielle said, “surely we all know what books are rumored to be in the Tower where he resides, left there by Fistandantilus himself.”

“You've seen some of these tomes?” Ladonna's eyes went wide, hunger filling them.

“I only saw one,” Yurielle said insistently, looking back at them. “In it were descriptions and spell theories to do such things. To attach one's self to another to drain life very slowly...”

“Why did you come upon such a subject Yurielle?” the white robe asked then.

“Raistlin Majere is a cursed man true, but he's also sickly. His cough has never eased since his Test... I had a theory of why this may be is so. We discussed it and he let me see the spellbook, for he too had begun to theorize what had happened in his Test.” Yurielle tried to explain as best she could, but she was starting to panic. They were beginning to dig deep into what had happened that night and Yurielle knew that Raistlin's secrets were not hers to give to the Conclave.

Besides, they could never know what she had felt when she had probed his skin, could never know about that dark presence there around the archmage. If they knew what she had heard when she had touched his skin... that voice that echoed in her mind, they would never let her go back to Palanthas.

“She's lying!” Ladonna hissed. “Cleverly lying, you are not telling us everything that happened that night girl.”

“None of the details matter,” Yurielle stated stubbornly. She refused to tell them about how she had touched his skin, refused to tell them how she saw his essence. That beautiful golden essence that was his magic and the way that it had exploded behind her eyelids and inside her body when he had cast his wards on her. Yurielle knew that if she told them anything about that night, especially the softer details that she had learned about Raistlin Majere, they would use them against her.

“And what, dear child, were you going to do with this information that you read within that ancient, and _evil_ , spellbook??” the red robe asked.

“Nothing Master!” That word was like a dagger into her heart, they all thought she was some dark treacherous thing amongst them. “He explicitly stated that he did not want nor require my help in any of his matters. So I left Palanthas as planned.”

“Regardless Yurielle,” Par-Salian said, “the Master of the Past and the Present has become quite interested in you. He came here, wishing to speak to us about you. He paid off your tutelage and then asked to take you on as an apprentice of his own.”

Yurielle did gasp then and had no hope in stopping the heat that rushed to her face. She wore her emotions on her skin and they knew it. “He mentioned that in passing while we talked in his Tower... but I didn't think he was serious. I showed him what else I can do with my magic and he... he finds my wild magic fascinating.”

“Girl there is no such thing! Not truly,” Justarius stated. Just as he had stated her whole life, “The paltry magic found in the untrained is only the tricks of clever illusionists.”

This. Always this argument from them! Blind fools the whole lot of them! Anger sparked within Yurielle and the young woman was going to object, was going to finally speak her mind. She opened her mouth to do so but closed it quickly.

Ladonna scowled with a frustrated huff, cutting off Yurielle before she could begin. “She has some power. If she did not then Nuitari would not have allowed her to don the black robes. Perhaps Majere is growing tired of Dalamar? Needs some new form of amusement? The Silvenesti elf may not be to his taste after all...” she eyed Yurielle then, that lewd look returning to those hard eyes.

Yurielle ignored the woman, for she despised the old crone. Ladonna was in essence everything that Yurielle was not. She was shrewd and heartless, ruthless in her pursuits and was never afraid to use force and insults to get what she wanted. The younger woman refused to play that game with her.

Instead Yurielle returned her attention fully on Par-Salian, tried to see past the powerful mage to the kindly old man she had always known, to the only father figure she could remember. As a child, she had worn white robes in honor of this man that she had once looked up to. But now... “What did he take from you Master? What does it have to do with Fistandantilus?”

The white mage held out his hand, and an illusion appeared within his palm. It was a large green stone, flecked with red like spots of blood. The stone was about the size of a large egg, mounted on a silver holding and held on a silver chain. “He took this,” Par-Salian said. “It is the Bloodstone of Fistandantilus.”

Yurielle's eyes went wide. If it was true, Raistlin now had within his possession one of the most powerful magical artifacts ever seen upon Krynn. It was claimed that the stone could heal any physical wound but its main purpose was much, much darker. It was able to suck the life force from a person and bestow that vitality to the wearer, as well as the memories taken from the victim.

It was an ancient artifact and Fistandantilus had used it to live many, many centuries, absorbing countless unfortunate lives. It was one of the most dangerous and well-guarded items in the Tower of High Sorcery at Wayreth. The fact that Raistlin had come here and taken it so brazenly, worried Yurielle greatly.

But, she tried to tell herself, it was probably something he would need in his quest to break his link with the ancient force that was Fistandantilus. She even said as much to the three before her, but they only glared at her like some stupid child who was missing the whole point.

“Do you know what kind of power he can gain from such an artifact? Do you realize how many memories are stored within that stone?” Par-Salian said quietly. “Raistlin Majere is already powerful. We have word that he has quite lofty goals. If he truly is going to do what our sources say... then there is no hope for any of us if he finds a way to extract the memories from that stone!”

“We also fear that his sudden interest in you child,” Justarius chimed in, “we fear he may wish to use you in his dark schemes as well.”

Her forehead marred in confusion, “I don't... I don't know what else he would want with such an artifact besides severing his link with Fistandantilus....” Yurielle said once again as calmly as she could. “What other reason would he need it?”

Ladonna laughed then, “My dear you are gifted with such a singular mind. Perhaps the stone will be useful to him in severing himself from the archlich. But his end goals are far, far loftier than that! Our dear Raistlin wishes to become a god!”

At this Yurielle gasped, it was pure madness. “What! ... how?!”

“Not many are aware of this...” Justarius said quietly. “But it was something that Fistandantilus had attempted himself at one point. We believe it was what destroyed his body. But it did not destroy his essence. If Raistlin Majere is indeed connected to the archlich, then link may be going both ways. We fear that Raistlin is, at least in some part, being influenced by Fistandantilus and his will.”

Yurielle's blood ran cold, “That's....” she was going to say crazy. She was going to argue that no mage as powerful as Raistlin would ever allow himself to be influenced. But then she remembered with vivid clarity the voice that had spoken to her when she had examined his magical sheild. She had only touched that dark shadow outside of Raistlin's being for a mere fraction of a second. But it was enough for her to hear it whisper inside of her head. The oily words promised to show her secrets and power. Gods, he was linked to that foul lich! What whispers did _he_ hear? She shuddered, horrified by what this could mean. Suddenly the young woman saw Raistlin in a new light.

“Raistlin Majere is evil Yurielle. Of this NEVER doubt!” Par-Salian said firmly. “His ambitions run farther than any of ours here. To seek to become a god... its heresy to the craft! He already possesses most of Fistandantilus's spellbooks and journals, now with the Bloodstone and the Staff of Magius...” the old white robe shook his head sadly. “He will be unstoppable if he is able to put any of these plans into motion.”

It felt like someone was squeezing Yurielle's heart. If all of this was true... if Fistandantilus indeed had influence on the man she had met, then where did Raistlin Majere end and Fistandantilus begin? Whose thoughts and plans were whose?

And most importantly, who wanted her more at the Tower in Palanthas... the lich or the man?

“Fear not innocent Yurielle,” her fellow black robe sneered. “For him to do such a thing is nigh impossible. If he did manage to find another portal to the Abyss, he would need someone of pure light to open it with him. He would need to find a willing cleric of Paladine. These fools think that somehow he'd use you in this. But...” the woman came face to face with her. Her steely eyes bore into Yurielle's soul, “You and I both know that to wear the black robes... you cannot be pure.”

That comment was a punch to the gut and though she knew that the woman was goading her, Yurielle still squeezed her eyes shut against the pain and doubt that the words inflicted. Gods she hated this woman and the things she said! Hated how she knew exactly what to say, knew exactly what doubts in Yurielle's mind to press in order to weaken her. Weaken her and cause her to close down, go inward.

For inside was warmth and light, inside was the hum of music and her strange magic that they could never have.

“Well...” Justarius was saying, seemingly forgetting Yurielle's presence, his voice sounded far away to her withdrawn mind. “This has gotten us nowhere. All we know for certain is he _is_ interested in her. Why else would he ask for her by name?” His eyes fell on the now quiet Yurielle, his gut twisted as he beheld her, he hated what they'd done to her... what they had hid from her.

“What little magic she may have... I do not see how any of it would benefit him. His curse cannot be lifted so even in that, Yurielle is useless to him no matter how talented she may be in her curse breaking,” Justarius continued, now looking at his fellows.

“But she helped his cough...” Par-Salian said quietly, also seemingly forgetting that she was there. “The man's body was shattered in his Test, never to heal again. That alone should have killed him. But, we were all there, we all saw him strike a deal with the archlich. We stood by as Fistandantilus tried to seize control of the young man.”

“Yes he tried,” Ladonna said. “But we were all, including Fistandantilus, extremely surprised by the strength within the young Raistlin. He encased himself in that damnable shield of his somehow...”

“And now he is beginning to understand what happened to him,” Par-Salian spoke again. “He survived against all odds with his frail health. Even with the constant draining power of the lich, he has not yet died. His strength and power only grows with each passing day,” the old man shook his head. “If our theories are correct, and the link goes deep enough that Fistandantilus has gained even a fraction of control or influence over Raistlin Majere... then woe to us.”

Justarius shuffled his feet awkwardly, his one leg had been maimed in his own Test and standing on it for too long brought him pain. “Yes. Woe to us,” he was eyeing Yurielle again. “Even if you say that his physical form cannot be helped we all heard him when he paid us a visit. He is stronger... somehow she _did_ help him. Yurielle is growing stronger herself. We can no long ignore this magic of hers.”

Yurielle sat quietly, her eyes on her lap; her heart hammering in her ears as she faintly listened to the mages talk around her. Quickly she ran through every interaction with Raistlin in her short time in his presence. Was that him? Was the man she had spent time with, the one she had coaxed smiles and laughter from, was that _really_ him? How could she truly know?

No! She snapped out of her self-induced stupor. A part of her refused to believe that he was under influence of a lich that had been dead for hundreds of years! Yurielle had seen Raistlin... the real Raistlin. She knew it in her heart and would accept nothing else.

She squeezed her eyes shut and opened herself up to the strange magic humming around her. Her solace and her own shield, one that she found comfort in. In her mind the air around them seemed like a thick fog as she expanded her senses outward from herself without moving a muscle. Threads of magic wove around her and she could feel and recognize weaves of magic belonging to the mages that stood before her.

They had been casting magic! For the air around them was thick with heavy spellwork.

Still listening to them, she no longer paid attention to the words of their conversation. Instead she reached out to feel the weave floating all around them within the room. They had cast a telepathy spell. Yurielle was barely able to contain her gasp of surprise when she realized that they thought she couldn't hear them. But the spell was there, revealed to her with her strange magic as she felt the ribbon of it glittering around her, connecting their minds.

Somehow, their words were reaching her mind as well. She didn't know how it was possible, but she was bending the weave so that her mind could hear them. Yurielle looked at them each in turn; they were staring at her again, like they always did.

Like how everyone stares at her. Their weird little curse breaking pet.

She swallowed hard and pretended to cave into herself again. Retreat and become docile, her usual method when dealing with the Heads of the Conclave. They were her teachers, her guardians, the ones who raised her, the ones who caged her. But this time she didn't go numb, she kept reaching, kept listening. She hadn't thought to reach out to feel for magic before today because she had never questioned until she had met the Hourglass Mage.

“What do we do with her?” Ladonna was asking in her mind to the two men beside her. “She's not powerful enough to stand against him. She'd never hurt a fly, so using her as an assassin is out of the question. Another spy in his web? No... I fear she's not even smart enough for that. She's far to honest.” Yurielle heard the disgust in the other woman’s voice, the sheer loathing for Yurielle's existence.

“In that I sadly agree Ladonna,” Justarius replied. “She has been of great value to us all these years however. Her translation skills are unsurpassed. She has translated tomes long thought unreadable. To lose her skills would be a great loss to the art.”

“We will not make her a slave!” Par-Salian thought harshly. “Wild magic or no, she is still a sister of the craft. There is a purpose to why she wears the black robes. We all know something happened in her Test, a divine intervention. We must honor this and not interfere with her path. Nuitari does not like it, but he gives her power for reasons we cannot understand. It is not our place to keep her from her destiny!”

“It is and we will,” Ladonna said darkly. “We must do anything to stop _him_ from even attempting to become a god! Do anything to keep _her_ magic away from _him_!”

Yurielle wasn't sure if the woman meant Raistlin or Fistandantilus.

“This still does not answer the riddle of what to do about the stolen Bloodstone. This is still a problem we must deal with,” Justarius thought then.

“Dalamar will check in soon, I am certain,” Par-Salian replied in his mind. The three still stood, now staring at each other, their eyes going over the top of Yurielle's head to gaze at one another.

“If Raistlin really wants her, then he will eventually come to get her,” Ladonna sneered. “I suggest a trap, lure him. Use this one as bait.”

“We all know he is too smart for that,” the white robe stated.

Justarius stood there, staring at Yurielle. “We have long spoken about this my friends. Yurielle has grown beyond our control; her powers are peaking just as we feared. We can no longer hide it from herself or from others as we have in the past. For this reason alone we brought her here to watch her and keep her secret. But it is no longer sufficient in keeping her in our control. If she knew...”

The red robe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with strong fingers before continuing, “Let's just say that the way she views the magic is indeed as effective as she claims. Let's just say that this is how the wild magic works. What if there are others out there who can tap into magic differently than we of the moons do? What does that mean for us? For the future of the craft? I think it is time we finally begin to unravel this mystery. As much as I hate to say it... our little girl is a woman grown. We can no longer continue to manipulate her away from learning about her own powers.”

“She is a rarity,” Par-Salian replied. “Only one every few generations at most are born with her level of mastery. Most barely rise higher than simple parlor tricks. We have found no others since...”

“Perhaps training her was a mistake,” Justarius said flatly, ignoring his comrade. He sighed as if a great weight was on him. “We have only made her stronger by honing the arcane magic within her.”

Ladonna had heard enough and scoffed audibly but kept her words secret within the spell. “She is no mage. She is nothing but a crazy wild witch! Just like her mother!”

Par-Salian glared at the woman in black, “You go too far Ladonna!”

Yurielle's eyes went wide, no longer able to keep it secret from them that she was listening. “My... my mother?” she murmured softly.

The three then turned and looked at Yurielle, their eyes wide.

“You were listening....” Justarius said, horror-stricken.

“It doesn’t matter! We all knew this day would come! No amount of spells or manipulation can control her anymore!” Ladonna nearly screeched. “Let me and my select few finally dissect her. Let us at last solve her mysteries. I know you want to...” the woman’s eyes landed on both of her companions.

“I will spill no more blood!” Justarius shouted; his sudden anger as hot and red as his robes.

Yurielle barely heard them begin to argue. The old woman had mentioned her mother. “What about my mother?!”

Ladonna, always the forceful one of the three, grabbed a fist full of Yurielle's hair. “How did you hear us?!” she yanked Yurielle's head painfully to stare into her eyes. “I will get to the bottom of your wild craft!” Yurielle felt a spell being woven around her. “TELL ME!”

Yurielle felt tears prickle in her eyes as her hair was being pulled in the old woman's bony fingers but she managed to stay calm. She felt the spell the woman gathered, saw its weave as the arcane magic was called forth. But in response, the wild magic surged up inside her then. She took hold of the arcane weave and flung it back at the woman, flung it back at _all_ of them. “Tell me how you know my MOTHER!”Yurielle cried at them, her voice a catalyst to her magic.

The three mages blinked, the deflected truth spell was holding, “My child...” Par-Salian said gently. “Your mother is dead dear.”

“We killed her,” Ladonna stated coldly, her voice devoid of compassion, “both her and your father. He was supposed to bring her to us, the witch rumored to hold great power. But the weakling fell in love and took her away.” Her knife bright eyes darted to Justarius, “If we would have sent a black robe and not a red, NONE of this would have happened! THIS-” she pointed to Yurielle. “This abomination would not be sitting here tainting the magic! I've always said we should have ended her! We should have finished what we started!”

Par-Salian eyes flared at the black robe, “It was you who killed the other... you botched the spell!”

“The other?” Yurielle felt the breath flee her body. Her heart froze in her chest, every limb heavy with remembered loss. “What... what other?”

Justarius looked at her then, his eyes were glazed over by the spell woven around him. “Your sister is dead. We did not mean to leave you alone sweet child, but you were not meant to live. It was to be a mercy to die so quickly, taken under by the river to be washed away. But the ambient magic saved you and when we found that you had lived....” he shook his head sadly, “We had the old woman bring you to us so that we could decide what to do with you.”

Yurielle could not breathe; her eyes went red with pain and anger. Everything had been a lie. All of it, everything, a terrible lie.

She barely heard Ladonna add, “Then we burnt that old woman’s home, no trace of you left in the world. You've been ours to study all these years but none of it has led to anything. You have been nothing but a waste of time!”

There were no words, only wrath.

In that instant, Yurielle released her hold over the spell. The three mages blinked, they were finally afraid of her now. They watched as Yurielle slowly stood; hatred glowing in those indigo orbs. Hatred and power unlike anything they had ever seen in her before.

“You.... killed.....” Yurielle took a deep breath.

“GET HER!” Ladonna lunged for the younger woman's throat.

Before any of them could stop her, Yurielle released her breath and screamed.

No one, not the mages, especially not Yurielle, could have predicted the power of her cry. Fueled by sadness and agony, the discordant cord ripped through the room, shattering all warding spells just as easily as she shattered the stone wall in front of her with her voice.

The three powerful members of the conclave were thrown back, unprepared and unprotected against the raw and uncontrolled power that Yurielle unleashed. The three flew across the room like rag dolls, slamming into the far walls and tumbling to the floor in unconscious heaps. Yurielle stood in the center of the room within the storm of magic. Her body was trembling, hot tears streaming down her face while wind and sorrow surged around her and power sparked along her skin

She heard the running of footsteps down the hall and gave the three mages in the room the smallest glace. Yurielle wanted them dead, but even in her great anger, she could not destroy them. A breath from the doorway was her indication that a spell was being cast. Holding onto the wild magic she flung a shield up around herself and the fireball cast against her fizzled along the shimmering surface. Looking up, Yurielle saw two wizards standing in the hole within the wall.

She didn't even care to note the color of their robes. It no longer mattered to her.

“Out of my way!” Yurielle yelled, not knowing the true power of what she was doing. The dying embers around her shield whirled around her in a hailstorm of ash and flame. Reigniting the fireball, she held it around herself and filled the room with an inferno as she rushed past the surprised mages who stood in her way.

The next few minutes were a blur to her mind. But Yurielle could recall hearing screams, she could recall the smell of burning, both of debris and of flesh, as her anger surrounded her. The only thing that she did know was that she was running. She ran as fast as she could and any mage she encountered was nullified by her voice, flung back by the inferno shield she still held in place around her. She screamed and wept, her tears freezing the floors so that any pursuit was slowed by the now treacherous surface left in her wake. Before she knew it she was at her quarters, the door was still a charred mess from when they burnt it down to get to her and Raistlin.

Was that only three days ago? To Yurielle, it felt like an eternity. It felt like she had been a different woman that had stood in this room with the archmage.

For the first time since beginning to question, Yurielle understood what she needed to do. Letting her fire shield go she let out one last wail of agony, cutting her magical ties to this place and severing her role here as a member of this Tower. The structure itself seemed to shudder at her different magic, as if recoiling from her, repulsed by this alien presence that did not belong inside of it.

Her scream had tore a hole through the outer wall of her room, exploding it outward. At the cry her fallen tears of ice shot out from the ground along where she had run, slowing any pursuit by filling the halls with razor sharp pikes all the way back to where the three head members still lay dazed on the floor of their interrogation room.

Yurielle knew that she had but minutes to gather all of her possessions into her bags. Grabbing her largest, the one that still held her costume, she threw all of her books and notes in, all of her drawings, and journals. She took everything that was hers and hers alone. Blinded by tears she moved quickly but with purpose, filling every bag that she could.

Eyeing her tinctures and jars sadly, she knew that she did not have time to pack them away. “Goodbye friends,” she said softly to them. She tossed the bag of gold that Raistlin had paid her debt with into the last bag and tied it shut. Yurielle didn't remember bringing it with her as she fled the room from the Conclave members, but there it had been in her hand when she had finally stopped. Quickly she decided that she would buy new things with the gold.

Her mind worked frantically as she packed and threw her traveling cloak over her shoulders. Finally she resolved that she would not return to Palanthas, she would not go to him. Yurielle decided through her tears that she would make her own way in life, for she owed nothing to Raistlin Majere and his curses and ambitions. She did not want to be part of his plans or become tangled in the web of ancient evil that wove around him. He had asked for her by name, and Yurielle was smart enough to not seek him out, she would not be fuel in his plans.

Because she would never be used again, there was no longer room in her life for lies and secrets.

Gathering up all of her bags and securing them around her lean frame, Yurielle took one last look around her chambers. She had the things that were important to her, her drawing, journals, notes and personal spellbooks. Everything else could be replaced, extra clothing and herbal kit included.

Yurielle went to the hole within the wall that gaped open over the Guardian Forest of Wayreth. The wild magic called to her now. It was out there in the world, and she was ready to answer it.

She heard nature call to her, its power thrummed in her veins just as much as the arcane magic did. Yet, she felt the difference. The two magics were nothing alike now that she had allowed herself to fully embrace the unknown. Launching herself out of the hole she called the wind and floated down into the trees.

Yurielle left the smoking ruin of the Tower of High Sorcery in Wayreth and ran into the dark enchanted forest. As she ran, she never looked back.

 


	16. Freedom in Darkness

Yurielle knew that the Guardian Forest that surrounded Wayreth had its own magic. It was ancient and powerful with a specific purpose similar to the forest that surrounded the Tower in Palanthas. However, this one did not cause fear in the heart, instead this one only let you go where it wanted you to go. If you were meant to get to the Tower at Wayreth, it allowed it. If not, you wandered in endless circles until you either gave up or died of starvation. For many heedless adventurers had died or gotten lost over the countless years within this forest, foolishly thinking they could get to the magical Tower that it guarded.

But Yurielle understood the forest and heard how it sang, the weave of its magic floated past her as she danced through the boughs. She sang her song as she fled the Tower of Wayreth, her voice was clear and crisp and high even though it was filled with a sorrowful undertone. The trees obeyed her forlorn call and refused to let the mages behind her find their prey. The mysterious forest worked against them, hiding the woman's tracks, making them change and go in a hundred different directions so they had no hope in following her.

She ran for what felt like hours. Running, always running and always singing. Her lungs burned, her legs ached, her eyes were sore from the never ending tears that streamed from them. But she had to get out of here. Her magic was effective but it wasn't permanent and so she knew that she had precious little time to get as far away as she could. Yurielle was not of high enough mastery in the arcane to know any teleportation spells so all that she had left was her own body to rely on as she made her escape.

But she had no idea where exactly she would go. After learning of Raistlin's insane plans of godhood, Yurielle now found that she did not want to return to Palanthas. Cursed archmage and forbidden books be damned, she had enough problems of her own right now. But still, Raistlin was the only magic user outside of Wayreth that she knew, he was the only one that could offer her aide or help her find answers to understand her magic. All she had ever known was Wayreth and its inhabitants. Before that life, all she could remember was cold and hunger and endless nights huddled lost and abandoned with her twin sister. Her dead sister who had been murdered by the Conclave, along with her parents. Her whole family gone, killed by the very people she had trusted! Taken by the very art and magic she had been raised with!

Yurielle stumbled when the memory assaulted her and barely managed to keep her footing as she caught herself against the trunk of one of the ancient trees. Numbly she looked around and realized that night had fallen without her noticing. _'I have to keep going,'_ she thought wearily to herself but her legs hurt so bad that they were trembling. She just needed to rest, just for a moment. In her mind she calculated how far she had probably ran and knew that she had miles to go before she would be even close to the edge of the forest. But then again, the forest's magic seemed to be working against her even as it kept her away from the mages pursuing her.

She knew that she was trying to head northwest, towards Porliost. She was known in the elven settlement, one of the very few that allowed outsiders within their port city. But every time she paused in her fleeing to get her bearings, it seemed as if she were going a different direction. The forest was either guiding her to something or it had decided that it wasn't safe yet to let her reach the edge of civilization. Frustrated she slapped her hand against the smooth bark of the tree she rested against. “Just show me the way out!” she cried, her voice echoed in the stillness as her breath billowed around her in great plumes.

There was a rustling in the bushes near her that made her lungs freeze with fright. For it was the first sound other than herself that she had come across. She held still, every muscle ready to fight or flee when suddenly a furry shape jumped out at her. Startled, she gave a small cry of alarm and flung her arms in front of her face. Seconds ticked by in tense silence but when no teeth or rending claws came to rip her apart, Yurielle risked a peek from behind her arms and gasped.

There, on the pristine white snow, sat a small black rabbit. Its tiny nose twitched at her, the little beads of its eyes shined like tiny pinpoints of light as it stared at her.

Yurielle sighed in relief and sank back against the tree, trying to ease her racing heart. “Not funny...” she grumbled to no one in particular.

The little ears rotated toward her as she spoke. Suddenly without warning, the rabbit darted off through the snow.

The wild magic within Yurielle prickled, urging her forward. “Wait!” she cried, trying to keep up with the nimble animal as it scurried through the underbrush. “Don't leave me alone little friend!” she huffed and narrowly missed a low hanging branch as she ran.

But, it was no use, the rabbit was quickly gone, lost in the thick undergrowth and snow.

Yurielle kept running, trying to find the trail of the rabbit again, when suddenly the trees gave way and she found herself on the edge of a clearing that was brilliantly lit with moon and starlight. Lunitari was brightest and fullest above her, but Solinari and Nuitari were there hanging low beside their cousin and also nearly full. All three were bathing the snow in a strange color of old blood.

Her breath froze in her lungs as she took in the scene of the clearing. For there, within that ring of blood stained snow, stood a dark figure dressed in black. Golden runes flashed along the hem of soft velvet robes. The crystal orb on top of his staff shone brightly to her, like a beacon in the night.

Like a star in a grisly dark sea of unknown.

A sob escaped her lips when she saw him, for she knew in that instant that she _had_ to go to him. Every thought and worry that she had up until now vanished. Yurielle barely slowed her pace as she ran to him and within seconds she was there, her arms flung around him as she dove into his lean chest. The force of her momentum sent him staggering a few feet backwards but he managed kept them both from falling into the snow.

“You were right...” she sobbed against him, burying her face in that inviting warmth that he gave off. “Raistlin...” his name caught in her raw throat. “They killed them!!! They... they... killed....”

“Shhh...” he soothed, running a warm hand over her hair. “Breathe Yurielle,” he said softly. “Calm yourself.”

Faintly she was aware that she was hyperventilating, her breathing erratic from her running and from the trauma of everything that had just happened. The realization that he was here and the memories of what she had learned within Wayreth all crashed over her again in a great wave. It was just all too much for her to handle! Her head swam and spots floated in front of her vision. Yurielle tried to breathe but her body was in shock and overexerted. She was upset and heart sick and she had done terrible things to get away from that place.

 _'Gods this must be what he goes through!'_ her mind thought as her vision blackened around the edges. She felt unconsciousness tugging at her and panic began to flood her when air refused to fill her lungs.

His arms left her sides so that his hands could reach her face. Forcing her to look up into his eyes Raistlin rested his forehead against hers. “I know Yurielle... I know...” his breath was warm on her skin, he smelled like spices and magic. “But you have to breathe for me,” he coaxed, using her command she had given him within the Library when he had that terrible fit of his own. “Breathe with me.”

Yurielle's frozen hands clenched at his wrists as she attempted to get herself back under control. All the while she stared into those eyes. They were soft in the combined moonlight. A deep understanding radiated from them. The weird color the three moons created when they were all nearly full gave his skin an even weirder metallic sheen that seemed tinted with blood, his eyes were dark as rust as she looked into them.

But those hourglass eyes were gentle and she found that she was not afraid of him. Not of whomever this man was that stood before her. For he was warm and calming to her ravaged nerves. Closing her eyes, there were only sparks of gold surrounding the two of them. _This_ was Raistlin and she couldn't help but smile as air began to fill her lungs at his soothing command.

Those warm hands of his brushed her tears off of her pale skin. Her cheeks were damp and rosy with the cold, the scant dusting of freckles were dark against the porcelain. Raistlin watched her as the tears continued to run down her face, he watched her close her eyes as she calmed herself, and he watched as a small smile ghosted her pale lips. Slowly those eyes opened once more, her midnight irises were black in the darkness, but in them he saw the reflected points of the stars above them.

He suddenly felt as though he was floating in those stars, suspended within the unknown.

Leaning closer, the archmage surprised them both by brushing his warm lips against hers. It was the lightest touch, barely felt. Chaste and hesitant, his kiss was feather light. Drawing away from her he simply looked at her, gauging her reaction as his hands still held the sides of her face tenderly.

And for the first time since meeting him, Yurielle saw uncertainty in his usually confident eyes.

But Yurielle was no longer doubtful as she looked up at him; her hands bunched the front of his cloak and pulled him back to her in order for her mouth to meet his again. In his surprise, Raistlin nearly pulled away but she felt him stop himself. Again he was hesitant, but in that small span of a few seconds, she felt him respond to her cold trembling lips that were flavored by her tears.

Now the archmage did draw back from her when she ended her kiss against his warm lips, both felt electricity between them. Their eyes met once more, and Yurielle saw that he wore a different mask now, one that she didn't understand.

Raistlin Majere looked frightened.

She shivered suddenly then, breaking the spell between them as well as breaking the open and vulnerable look within the archmage's eyes. Her trembling body reminding them both that she had been running through the winter forest for far too long. Frozen and tired, she was ready to collapse from cold and fatigue.

“They took everything from me Raistlin....” she sobbed, her head suddenly swimming, overwhelmed by exhaustion and assaulted by the questions his very presence stirred. “No... I never had anything to begin with! It was all lies!” she forced the words through a throat tight with sorrow.

Drawing her back into his warm embrace, Raistlin held her against his chest. “I am sorry for your pain Yurielle. I'm sorry that you had to find out that way. I knew it would hurt you. But you deserve better than the life they were giving you.”

“Did... did you know they killed my parents... my.... twin....” she could not continue for it felt as though her heart would stop. The pain was just too much to remember now that she knew the truth of what had happened.

She felt him nod; he was pressing his face to the top of her head, his long arms cradling and enveloping her inside of his cloak that he had wrapped around the both of them. “Yes Yurielle. At least, I had my suspicions that this was so. But we can discuss it in detail when you are safe and warm.” His soft whisper surrounded her, “You're frozen solid and in need of rest. Let's get you home.”

“Home?” she asked thickly, her throat heavy with emotions. “Where is that?” she shook her head against him with another sob.

“Where do you want home to be?” his voice was quiet, he sounded unsure.

She squeezed him tighter, burying her face against the warm fur trim of his cloak she said, “I have nowhere else to go. But, but I really liked that room I slept in inside of your tower Raistlin.” The words tumbled out of her at the memory of that quaint room with the empty shelves. Suddenly she wanted so desperately to fill them and make that space her own, “I think... I think at least for now... I'd like to call that home.”

The woman heard him sigh, profound and low it emanated from deep inside his being and vibrated against her ear pressed over his heart. Those combined sounds of his heartbeat, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the almost reverent sigh, were like music to her.

“Close your eyes,” he commanded softly. “You're weak and this spell can make passengers nauseous. But it shall be over soon.”

Before she knew it, she was surrounded by his magic as he teleported them away from the dark forest of Wayreth, leaving everything she knew behind in the ruins of her anger.

 

***

 

Moments later they appeared within the circle of runes on the floor near one of the windows inside of Raistlin's study. Catching her as her legs gave out, the archmage gently guided Yurielle down onto the nearby sofa as she almost swooned from exhaustion. With a word he had the hearth blazing hot as he began to remove her bags from her shoulders. One by one he pulled them from her and let them fall to the floor beside them.

“Did you pack the whole tower?” Raistlin asked, for it seemed like the bags would never end as he continued to pull them from her lean frame only to find another tucked next to her side or under her other arm. How she had managed to run with all these heavy bags weighing her down was impossible for him to understand.

“It's just the essentials,” she said with a sigh when she was free of the last bag. She fell back then; eyes closed, and slumped against the side of the couch. She looked pale as she shivered violently. Snowflakes still clung to her hair and tears still glistened half frozen on her colorless cheeks. Her lips were slightly blue as her teeth chattered.

“Take your frozen cloak and boots off,” he instructed. “I'll make you some tea to help warm you.”

With numb fingers she obeyed as best as she could. It took her a few moments of clumsy trying to remove her cloak and her robes as well. For those too were frozen stiff, the cloth trapping the numbness against her body, robbing her of warmth. She wore a simple green tunic and dark leggings beneath the plain robes. Next she slowly eased her sore feet out of her sopping wet boots and damp stockings, her numb toes were like ice and she could barely feel them.

Raistlin came back then, a cup of tea in each hand. Setting them down on the table beside her, he took her boots from her and placed them near the fire to dry. He then threw her cloak and robes over a chair out of their way.

“Here,” he said quietly as he removed his own robes. “This did the trick last time you managed to freeze yourself,” he stated and held open the garment for her.

Yurielle didn't even hesitate; the thought of being surrounded by that heat he gave off was too much for her frozen form to resist. Quickly she wove her arms into the sleeves of his robes and closed the thick fabric around herself. She couldn't contain a sigh as that delicious heat of his enveloped her.

Raistlin didn't comment as she settled back onto the sofa, still shivering visibly. He then gathered blankets off of the chairs around the room and wrapped them around her as well, cocooning her in several layers. Joining her, he drew his feet underneath his legs, for he had also removed his cold boots as he had prepared their tea.

Despite the fact that he had been out in the winter night, Raistlin wasn't nearly as chilled as she. For his garments that he wore beneath his robes were far more sensible than hers and meant for cold weather traveling, being of thick wool and heavy cotton.

Yurielle just sat there, her eyes on the dancing flames, the hot mug held in numb fingers close to her face as the warmth from his body heat slowly sank into her limbs. So many things ran through her mind right in that moment that she had completely forgotten about the mage beside her.

Raistlin however was very much aware of the woman beside him as he silently watched her. She was lost in dark thoughts he knew, her eyes still glittered with tears as memories and uncertainty raged behind those indigo orbs.

“Your tea will serve you better on the inside more than out,” he reminded quietly as he fussed with the blankets to make sure she was warmly covered.

She stirred slightly and mechanically took a sip, never taking her eyes off the fire. After a moment the flavor registered, “Dandelion?” her voice cracked as she finally looked at him.

He shrugged, “With a bit of honey. I found that I liked it when you offered it to me.”

“Do you still drink your other tea?” she asked, sipping the warm concoction again.

“Sometimes yes,” he said and drew his feet farther under himself for warmth. “My lungs are much improved, but I still do have some coughing fits here and there. But they are rarer now and so far not as severe.”

She removed the topmost blanket from the pile he had built around her and offered it to him. “I'm sorry I didn't have time to make you more tincture... and I'm afraid left my supplies behind,” more sadness shown in her eyes. “I couldn't take everything.”

“I still have plenty to last until we can get you everything you require,” he stated, taking the blanket from her and draping it across his lap. “Everything you left behind will be replaced Yurielle, rest assured.”

Yurielle eyed him now as the firelight played on the golden planes of his angular face. His long white hair was half pulled back giving her a full view of his aquiline nose, sharp cheekbones, and angular jaw. The sharpness of his features would seem intimidating to her if not for those usually intense eyes that were now unguarded and friendly as he met her gaze evenly. He looked so calm and open in that moment that it made her pause.

Yes, Yurielle had been right the first time she had met him; Raistlin Majere was indeed very handsome. This realization was enhanced as the effect of the firelight shining on his skin and in his strange eyes made him seem otherworldly and surreal.

“Did... did you really...” she looked away from him again before she could begin to blush, drawing her puffy eyes away from his stunning face back to the fire. “Ladonna said you came to buy me... asked for me as an apprentice as a ruse to get me back.”

He scoffed, “She would twist my intentions. No I didn't _buy_ you Yurielle... I merely made a donation on your behalf. To refund them for the loss of your services and finally paying off your lifelong debt.”

“Isn't that all the same thing?” she looked back at him wearily, wanting to see his reaction.

Raistlin shrugged. “You can't prove it,” he said lightly, echoing her words from the festival back to her as his eyes caught the firelight and flashed at her.

Yurielle let herself smile then, her anger and embarrassment at the thought of him purchasing her evaporated. Whatever he had done, he had meant well by it and she had been the one to tell him of the debt she owed the Conclave. “Thank you for the tea,” she said, changing the subject. “It _is_ very warming.”

He nodded and picked up the second cup that he had set on his side of the couch and began to sip it as she returned her attention back to the dancing flames within the hearth.

They sat in silence for a very long while. Raistlin didn't question her, didn't prod her about what had happened to her at Wayreth. He just let her watch the flames in silence, with the occasional sniffle the only sound between them as every so often a wayward tear slowly slid down her face.

He let her be to sort through her own thoughts for Raistlin knew that the woman had just faced a deep and dark truth about her past. The sting of suddenly being cut lose from something she had known her whole life was a feeling the archmage could relate to. For Raistlin knew what it was to walk away from the only life he had ever known, to abandon everyone around him to further himself and walk his own path. It had been a difficult choice, but a necessary one. Raistlin knew that pain and loss was the only way to make one strong, was the only way to uncover ones true power. One had to let go of those that held them back...

But, he could not deny that there were still times he caught himself expecting to see Caramon bumble around a corner or to hear his twins uproarious laughter cut through the silence of Raistlin's studying. It had been several years since Raistlin had cut that tie and still there were moments he thought of his brother, much to his ire and annoyance. But now, he willingly thought of his twin and compared his own life to the woman beside him. His own loss and separation was one of choice, while her's had been one of murder.

Anger coursed through the archmage at the thought of those powerful mages back at Wayreth destroying the life of a child and taking her in and sheltering her like it was some act of mercy. In his mind it was kidnapping and the fact that the seemingly perfect heads of magic upon Ansalon had such a dark secret held in plain sight angered him further. He wondered then what other dark and insidious secrets the Conclave hid from the magehood as a whole.

Quietly he reached out and took the empty cup from her hands and set it beside his on the table. She didn't even stir, so deep was she in her thoughts. The sting and uncertainty would fade for Yurielle just as it had for Raistlin. And in that crater left behind, her power would grow and he would be there to witness it, to learn about it. This little Conclave pet was no longer in their clutches and he would get to the bottom of why they had kept her alive instead of murdering her with the rest of her family.

 _'Her power will be yours to mold,'_ that voice slithered into his mind unbidden and quickly Raistlin shut the archlich out of his thoughts.

First there was _that_ problem that must be dealt with.

The archlich seemed almost excited at the prospect that this strange woman was now in Raistlin's presence. Raistlin scowled at this, for he did not enjoy the fact that the lich seemed fixated on the woman's magic as if it were something he would use for himself. _'She will help me destroy you,'_ Raistlin thought within his mind, letting his loathing seep deeply into his being and directed it at the archlich. _'She and I will undo you!'_

 _'Oh no my boy...'_ that voice seemed to echo back at him from a deep dark corner inside of him, _'She will undo YOU!'_

Raistlin scowled to himself as he reenforced the mental barriers he had designed and erected within his mind to keep the lich contained. Somehow the leech always found a way around these walls, somehow, when Raistlin was distracted, Fistandantilus found a way to see into his mind and hear his thoughts. His eyes went back to Yurielle now, she still sat silently beside him; unaware of the struggle within the archmage.

Yes, there was the problem of the archlich. But, Raistlin suddenly realized, that there was the problem that _she_ presented. For he could not deny that she was not only fascinating to him, but also that he was attracted to her. How could he not be? The only person his curse did not deny him.

Many long days these past few months Raistlin repeatedly told himself this attraction would fade as it always had during his youth. Power and magic were all he desired, all else were cardinal wants that he had no need or use for.

But when she had willingly kissed him... the thought had occurred to him that perhaps she was attracted to him as well? Could it possibly be that such a creature as she, one of such kindness and good nature, could somehow be drawn to him as well?

NO! Again Raistlin scowled to himself for these were weak and useless thoughts to even be entertaining. Her first kiss to him, the night after her dance, was a teasing thing. One she gave him to uphold some silly dare that she had made. Tonight the woman was sad and lonely and in need of comfort, her kiss was just that, of a broken heart needing reassurance. Yes he had brushed his own lips against hers but he hadn't meant to... had he?

Raistlin nearly scoffed at himself but he held back, unwilling to break the silence of the room. Now was not the time to be pondering such nonsense. He needed this woman's help and he would not jeopardize it by scaring her off with these meaningless thoughts that apparently still existed within him. He took a deep breath then, annoyed with himself that he hadn't banished the sentimental feelings that were only reserved and useful for men like his oaf of a brother.

Suddenly her voice interrupted his thoughts. “What am I going to do now?” she whispered, so quietly that he wasn't certain if the question was for him or to herself. After a heartbeat her eyes turned to rest on him.

“What is it you wish to do Yurielle?” he replied then, tearing his own thoughts away from the dilemma inside of him.

She rubbed her eyes with her hands. “I don't know... I haven't been on my own since...” her eyes misted again and once more she rubbed at them, banishing the tears with a frustrated sound. She drew her knees up against her chest, hugging herself within his robes and blankets. Her eyes then stared off into the room, looking miserable.

After a few moments her eyes focused back on him, “Is it true? They told me... they said you want to become a god...”

His golden eyes stared evenly at her; he saw no reason to lie, “Yes.”

She made a strangling sound in her throat and buried her face against her knees as a new round of tears washed over her. Raistlin sat there in silence, listening to her and watching as her body was wracked by sobs. He did not understand where this new wave of emotions came from.

Finally, when her tears had run dry from exhaustion, Yurielle began to nod off where she sat. Her head was still resting against her knees, curled into a fetal position sitting up. But occasionally her body would make little jerking movements as if she were fighting sleep.

Raistlin took note of this and stood up, tearing his eyes from her. “I'll go start the fire in your hearth so your room is warm,” he said numbly. Her sorrow at his confession had left him confused and feeling hollow. He had expected anger or fear, an argument at least or reasons for him to not follow his plan. Anything other than what she gave him. The archmage had not been prepared for outright sorrow and it had completely disarmed him.

She made no indication that she had heard him as he left her sitting alone in the study. Several minutes later he returned to find her slumped against the seat of the couch, buried deep within her mound of blankets. “Yurielle,” he prodded the lump gently with a long finger. “Yurielle!” he repeated louder when he got no response.

From somewhere in the pile she groaned as a slender hand emerged to weakly bat him away, “I'm cold and tired, not deaf....”

“Your room is ready,” he couldn't help but be slightly amused by the complaining pile of blankets.

She grumbled as a sneeze escaped her before she oozed off the couch. The dark auburn halo of her hair was a static mess as she slowly emerged from the blankets. “I was just getting comfortable...” she whined.

He stood there for a moment examining her. Her face was pale and wane, her lips sad but no longer tinted blue. Her usually bright eyes were dull and red rimmed, the skin around them dark and puffy. “You look exhausted,” he stated the obvious.

“It's.... been a really long day,” as she mumbled and rubbed her eyes. “Here...” she went to remove his robe.

“Keep it on,” he said, his hands going to the fabric and closing it back up when she had tried to remove it. “It's the heaviest one I own and it will keep you warm tonight as you thaw. Your hands are still like ice,” he commented as their fingers brushed against one another.

He then took her hands in his, folding his slightly larger ones around hers, cocooning them and warming them quickly.

Yurielle blinked sleepily at him, she didn't know what to say to him. Everything she had ever heard about Raistlin Majere did not seem to add up to what she herself had seen of the man before her. As she looked at him, especially right now, she couldn't see how this man's ambitions would be as lofty as trying to reach godhood. But then she remembered the shadow around him. Anything was possible with him she realized as she shuffled along behind him when he finally proceeded to lead her from the room.

She yawned heavily and rubbed her eyes again as they entered her dimly lit bedchambers across the way from his study. He hadn't lit any of the candles around the space, instead had focused on making sure her hearth blazed and bed warmed with a warming pan beneath the covers.

Yurielle smiled wearily at him when he removed the metallic bed warmer that was filled with hot stones from the fireplace. “It wasn't in there long, but it should be better than freezing,” he said as he put it back by the hearth so she wouldn't burn herself.

“Thank you Raistlin,” she said softly, her voice was still thick from crying. “You can be very thoughtful when you're not being evil,” she managed to tease.

“Well don't get used to it,” he replied with a hint of humor of his own as he held the blankets on the bed open for her. “In case you haven't figured out, I'm evil all the time.”

“I don't think that’s really you...” she replied before she all but dove into the bed covers. “I think it's just another bad habit of yours.”

“And you sometimes act like a child,” he observed her immature belly flop onto the plush surface of the bed. “Another one of _your_ bad habits?”

“At least we're getting to know one another...” she yawned deeply as she gathered the blankets up around herself, cocooning herself in their warm depths.

She was asleep nearly instantly, allowing Raistlin a few minutes to watch the firelight dance on the red in her hair, the golden ends shone brightly back at him from where they peaked out of the covers.

He shook his head at this strange new development in his solitary life.

For good or ill, Yurielle had somehow found her way onto Raistlin's path.

But he had to question, was she here to walk with him as an ally or was she to be an obstacle in his way? All he knew for certain was that his life had become far more complicated than he had ever expected.

All because he decided to go to the Great Library one day instead of returning an unopened letter to his twin.

Finally he tore himself out of his reverie and exited her room, quietly closing the door as he left.

 


	17. The One with Wild Magic

Yurielle awoke with a start; she was hot and felt smothered. For a moment, panic seized her and she flung the stifling weight from her body. The pile of blankets fell from the edge of the bed and she blinked her eyes from the hazy scene that greeted her. The anemic light was trying its best to come in from around curtains that hung over a tall window nearby. But the light was dim and very dreary, doing little to brighten the room.

Confused, she quickly realized that she was not in her usual living quarters. Looking around she took stock of her surroundings and of herself. It was then she found that a thick velvet robe was tangled around her body. The cloth was soft and blacker than midnight, with delicate runes stitched into the hems with glimmering golden threads. She could sense that powerful magic and spells were woven into the symbols of power.

Then she realized that it was Raistlin's robe.

Suddenly, a wave of memories came flooding back to her. The faint nightmare that had jolted her awake had been real. Yesterday, Yurielle had finally learned the truth of her life. She had fought against the Conclave and their mages, then she fled from that place, knowing the extent of the lies she had been told. She had left the only home she had ever known and launched herself into the arms of the darkest man on Krynn.

That dark man had then brought her here, to his domain, to his home.

Tears stung her eyes when the reality of those events set in even as a strange twisting flutter of emotions filled her stomach.

The Conclave members had betrayed her, killed her family, and had kept her there at the Tower in Wayreth her whole life. Par-Salian, Justarius, and Ladonna, they had each had a hand in raising her since she had been taken there to live. They were the only family she had left after her parents disappeared and her sister died. But now... now Yurielle knew the truth. Those very people that she had looked up to were responsible for the death of her family. The Heads of the Conclave had raised her yes, but they had lied to her and, most importantly, they were afraid of her. They always had been.

But they had every right to be!

Slowly she recalled that battle, how she had used her strange wild magic against them. She saw the weave of their spells and with her voice borne of a broken heart; she had robbed them of their power. She had torn through the tower with a rage she didn't know she could possess, she had fought and she was certain that she had killed. She knew she had to, but it didn't make it any easier on her.

Wiping her eyes she took in the room around her as her vision adjusted to the dim light. It was tidier than the first time she had stayed here. The empty shelves had been dusted, the extra and unnecessary items removed. Sitting up she saw her bags there at the foot of the bed. Raistlin had also brought her robes and cloak in at some point. They sat draped over the back of the large chair near the hearth. The fire within the stone fireplace had burned low so that nothing but embers could be seen in the dimness. Her boots lay before the stonework of the fireplace.

Faint sunlight filtered through the closed curtains as she went to the window and peered out. Heavy frost covered much of the glass and thick snow had piled on the window sill, but she could see out onto the city of Palanthas. It was late in the morning and the day was gray and overcast.

The washroom was chilled but not freezing as she drew a bath and heated it with a spell. Her skin crawled when she called upon the magic of the black moon. Nuitari was angry at her, she could feel it. But she did not know how to heat the water with her other magic, so for now she decided she would use the arcane when need arose. And she needed a hot bath more than anything right now!

Yurielle took her time to bathe and refresh herself. She needed time to herself to go over everything in her head. When she had washed the tears from her face and soaked away the exertion of her flight from her body, she spoke the cantrip upon her clothes to clean them and dressed.

Gathering up Raistlin's lavishly expensive robes from where she had left them on the edge of the bed, Yurielle couldn't help but run her fingers over the velvet. The cloth was indeed thick and well made, soft and plush under her fingers. And there was that scent... unbidden, Yurielle couldn't help but bring the fabric to her face and inhale deeply.

The smell of incense and herbs, of spices and spell components, of books and magic - all with that faint undertone of darker things, of something dead and musty - filled her senses. Every smell was so familiar to her, for she had grown up within a Tower of High Sorcery so she was exposed to all of them every day. But the way they clung to him was so very different...

Feeling suddenly silly and foolish, Yurielle folded the cloth carefully. She would return the borrowed robe once she found the owner.

Returning her attention to the rest of the bedroom she began to slowly unpack her bags, filling the vast bookshelves with her meager items. Twenty various books in all and three cases of drawings, her dancing costume and a few of her favorite crystals that she had managed to grab. That was all that she had left of her life. How few things she could actually call her own!

Tears stung her eyes again and she angrily scrubbed them away. She was sick of crying and sick of being upset with things she couldn't change. Taking in the vast empty shelves around her she again felt the deep desire to fill them. Fill them with spellbooks and tomes of power, with items and arcane treasures of her very own. Yurielle could see it in her mind's eye and for the first time in her life, Yurielle was excited, truly excited in the unknown. For this was finally a path that she herself had chosen to walk down, as uncertain and dark as it may seem, she was eager to know where it would lead her.

It was then she picked up the bag of coins she had taken from the Conclave. It was heavy and she wondered how she had indeed managed to carry all this for as long as she had. Her legs were stiff today and her back ached from her running. She was fit, but she wasn't used to long distance or prolonged times of heavy exertion and today she felt the pains of her flight from Wayreth.

The clock tower out in the city chimed, it was noon. She sighed; she supposed it was time to stop sulking and go out and find the Master of the Tower. It was time to learn what he had meant by destiny. And it was time to start finding answers to the myriad of questions she had both about herself and the mysteries surrounding the golden skinned mage.

Donning her boots and robes after refreshing them like she had her clothes, she opened the heavy wooden door of her room and peered out onto the landing. She was greeted by a pair of two glowing orbs.

“Mistress is awake...” that cold ethereal voice floated around her. “The Master is in the library. He bade me to tell you to find him once you were ready.”

She nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. There was something about these specters that frightened her more than anything else. Especially when they just appeared out of nowhere unannounced.

The orbs still hovered there, staring at her. “May I pass?” she asked after a minute of staring back at them.

A spectral hand reached out to her, “Just a taste...” it said coldly.

Yurielle's stomach felt like it plummeted to her feet as the undead wraith reached that skeletal appendage out to her. There was darkness around it, thick and oily. Her eyes widened, horrified at the recognition.

“Back!” she cried, throwing up her hand instinctively. White light flashed from her palm and the wraith screeched loudly and retreated farther back away from her door.

A second and third pair of eyes suddenly appeared on the landing. They stared at her unblinking, their own hands reaching out. “If you value your existence....” Yurielle warned the approaching dead, “You will come no closer!”

The specters hovered around her, just outside of her light. “You cannot hope to hold that shield up forever...” one hissed darkly at her, it was the largest of them, the first one to try to touch her. The one that stank of the archlich.

“I can and I WILL!” she exclaimed, her eyes ablaze with her strange power. “Back you foul lich! You will not get me and you will not get him!” she growled lowly at it.

Dark hissing laughter sounded from that one. The sound of it was like ice breaking and splintering, leaving her feeling empty.

Raistlin and Dalamar suddenly appeared on the landing, having quickly ascended from below after hearing the wraith screech. “What is the meaning of this?!” Raistlin's voice was cold and hard as he stared at the Guardians hovering around the woman. The wraiths twisted and writhed in confusion for a moment outside of the shimmering white barrier that Yurielle held around herself. The archmage met the woman's eyes, they were not afraid, instead she looked angry.

“Master...” the three bowed then, the largest of them seemed to shrivel and become docile.

“How DARE you disobey me!” he growled, glaring at them with rage in his eyes. “She is NOT to be harmed!”

The eyes bowed lower and faded away. Raistlin came onto the landing then and crossed the expanse between himself and Yurielle, stopping just outside of her aura of light. Raising a hand he tentatively touched it, he brought his hand back with a hiss of pain. “You may drop that Yurielle.”

She did so before he had even stopped speaking. “Sorry...” she said and rubbed her hands on her robes. They tingled with the effort of holding back that sickening feeling she felt roll off the Guardians.

Dalamar had now come onto the landing; his eyes were wide as he regarded the woman. “What in the Abyss was that about... and what did you DO? I've never seen a shield like that!”

“You've doubted her powers long enough apprentice. I suggest you get with the program,” Raistlin snarled at the dark elf. Then, turning back to her, he asked more gently, “Are you alright?”

Yurielle nodded, “I am. But they would not let me pass.”

The mage's eyes were dark. “They have never tested my orders before. The fact that they dare to is....”

“Unsettling,” Dalamar offered from behind his master.

“Unsettling to be sure,” Raistlin agreed. The Guardians had been restless since Yurielle had first come into the Tower. He didn't like it, and he didn't know what it could possibly mean that they were disobeying him. “Come Yurielle,” the archmage beckoned for her to follow, “Dalamar was just informing me about what happened at Wayreth...”

Yurielle took a steadying breath. She knew that she should tell him what she had just sensed and should share with him everything about what she suspected. But she needed to know about what was going on at Wayreth first and foremost. “How bad is it....” she asked quietly, bracing herself for the truth.

Dalamar laughed and Raistlin shot him an icy glare. “You did a number there my lady,” the elf said, ignoring his masters withering look. “If I hadn't seen your recent display, I honestly did not believe that you had caused such destruction there all by your little self. Showing your true colors finally?”

Yurielle visibly flinched at the words.

“Enough Dalamar!” Raistlin snapped and eyed the woman. She had gone deathly pale. Holding his arm out to her he gestured again, “Come, let us go to the library to talk and sort all this out. I will deal with the Guardians later.”

She ignored Raistlin's offered arm,, instead her eyes then went to the elf, there was an edge to her demeanor now, “Word travels fast then... and you called me the Conclave's pet.”

Dalamar's dark eyes narrowed menacingly. He opened his mouth to retaliate but Raistlin cut him off.

“Unless you both want to spend the rest of your lives out in the freezing snow, then by the GODS you will stop bickering in my presence! Do I make myself clear?” those golden eyes glared at the two of them.

“Been there, done that,” Yurielle murmured to herself as she mirrored Dalamar's look of contempt. “Fine. I will call a truce for now dark elf. Much as I dread it, I need to know what you have heard regarding Wayreth.”

Dalamar bowed his head slightly; his long raven black locks slid across his shoulder, “Very well lady. A truce...”

Raistlin walked past the both of them, his face hard and annoyed as he descended the steps to return to the library. Dalamar gave Yurielle one last lopsided smirk and followed his master without comment. Finally Yurielle followed as well, unwilling to be left alone on the landing in case the Guardians came back.

When the three black robes were all seated around the central table within the library, Raistlin motioned to Dalamar, “From the beginning apprentice. So the lady may hear what her anger has done to the magehood.”

Raistlin watched Yurielle's face as the dark elf recounted his emergency message from the Conclave. He watched as horror and pain nearly overwhelmed her when she learned the extent of the damage she had caused to the ancient tower. When she heard the number of dead and injured, he thought she was going to be ill. Admiring her once again for she somehow held it together, Raistlin poured the woman a glass of wine and held it out to her. Yurielle took it gratefully and downed it in one long swig. Empty, she held it back to him for a refill.

“I've.... never killed before...” her eyes were cracking but her face was still pale and emotionless.

“A necessity,” Raistlin interjected, refilling her glass. “You would not have gotten free of there otherwise.”

“You are now a renegade for having murdered and used your magic to damage the Tower. Nothing like this has happened for many long years within those walls. You have bruised their ego and they need time to lick their wounds,” Dalamar stated. “Rest assured there are mage hunters all across Ansalon now looking for you.”

Yurielle shuddered, she hated the mage hunters. Mostly black robes, they were ruthless in their pursuits and used any methods to get their prey. They were soulless trackers giving their hearts and minds to the blackest of forces and forbidden magic.

“I am sure that there is a considerable reward for your head now Yurielle,” Dalamar then added.

“One you wish to collect yourself?” she shot at him.

“Would that I could Yurielle. But I fear I value my apprenticeship and the knowledge to gain here within this Tower far more than some paltry amount of currency. Besides, I am highly amused by the chaos that you have caused. I have misjudged you,” the elf said and offered a bow of admiration.

“As of yet they do not think to look for you here,” Raistlin cut in before more barbed words began to fly between the two. “They do not know that I had returned to the forest and found you before they did. It seems the forest has hidden your trail from them. For all they know you are still in in the south, wondering near Qualinesti.”

“I didn't want any of this...” she confessed after a moment of silence. “I didn't want to cause such ruin. I didn't know my voice would be so powerful... that the wild magic would act that way. I just wanted to get out of there! I just wanted them to pay for what they did to me!”

Raistlin's eyes softened but he said nothing as she drained her third glass of wine. He did not refill it again when she held it back out to him. Instead he took it and rested it on the table beside the wine bottle.

“All I've ever known is Wayreth...” she said quietly, her eyes downcast and unwilling to look at either mage. “My whole life was at that Tower,” she continued when she could. “No...” she shook her head, “I existed because they _let_ me. They used me... I see it so clearly now. All those lessons... I terrified them but they were molding me into something for them to use...” her voice cracked then, her face twisting in revulsion as the reality of her whole life sank in.

“The magic always told me... but I never listened to it the way that I should have,” her eyes looked far off. “I heard it yesterday. I let it flow through me... and I brought them to their knees.”

Raistlin stared at her, trying to imagine this woman before him doing the things that Dalamar said that she had. His report was filled with how she had set the air aflame around her, burned and blistered the ancient walls, how she had splintered the stone with her screams of anguish. She had summoned spikes of unmelting ice that had pierced and injured many mages as they had tried to run her down. Her voice had disorientated and caused pain to many who had heard her.

In his presence this woman had been nothing but kind and gentle, even if she was sometimes bossy and quick tongued, but still Raistlin had a hard time seeing her act with such violence. Her voice and touch had calmed his lungs and stilled the hollow feeling inside of him on more than one occasion. But now Yurielle had killed out of anger and the need to protect herself. The knowing of it was hard on her but Raistlin also knew that this pain, like the sting of everything else that had happened to her, would fade with time as well.

The archmage stirred then and looked at his apprentice, the elf was staring at the woman as well, mouth open, aghast as the realization sank in for him. The dark elf clearly still could not believe what she had done. Raistlin once again wondered why so many at Wayreth viewed Yurielle with such low appraisal.

“I spent the past few days reading about the wild magic,” Raistlin's said then, drawing his gaze back to the silent woman. “It is thought that the beings with this magic draw upon the remnant weave remaining when the gods crafted the world. Its occurrence is rare, only manifesting so strongly every few hundred years. From what I could find... none have ever been born with the arcane magic as well. You are unique Yurielle, for you are both of the earth and of the moons, a duality that should never have been created.”

He looked at her; something like sympathy in was his eyes. “The Conclave knew this and tried to hide it from you, tried to bury it under their lies about your own magic. But, what they do not know is that the god's asked something great of you during your Test...” His voice grew softer now, barely above a whisper. “What did you tell me, when you refused to leave Wayreth with me? What do you need to maintain?”

“Balance,” she said softly. “I remember now that this was part of the pact I made. I serve Nuitari and I wear the black so others don't have too. I sing for those without voices... I shine in the darkness to save those who are lost,” her eyes were still downcast as she spoke as if it were a mantra that had been drilled deep into her being. “I've always remembered fractions of my Test... I just don't understand what exactly I need to do to balance or why they need me to. There is something else,” her brow furrowed in thought, “something else that I just can't remember!” She shook her head in frustration.

Raistlin leaned forward and lifted her chin with one slender finger so that her eyes met his. He didn't say anything. But his look of understanding and calm reassurance was enough for Yurielle.

Dalamar's laughter pierced through the air, startling them both. “God's! Who would have ever thought? You really do have a different magic...” he seemed to eye her with new respect. “For what it is worth Yurielle,” his voice was low now but sincere, his mockery gone. “I would not have been so cruel to you if I had believed you...”

She glared at him, “Get over yourself Dalamar. You were an arrogant creep back then and you still are!”

The elf chuckled and sighed dramatically, “Ah the scars of unrequited love... how it has changed you, shaped you Yurielle.”

Raistlin watched the woman's eyes harden as her and the elf exchanged a glare. She then looked back at him and slowly those indigo orbs softened as a flush tinted her cheeks. Silently her eyes darted away to rest shyly on her lap. He thought of her kiss and her crying bought after he had confessed his plans. The Hourglass Mage suddenly was at a loss as to guessing what was actually going on behind those indigo eyes of hers.

“What now then? I cannot go back there, I cannot leave here... Am I to exchange one prison for another?” she asked evenly, her fingers again playing with the hem of her sleeve. “They also told me that you took the Bloodstone of Fistandantilus. What do you plan to do with that?” her eyes now darted up to meet Raistlin's.

They both heard Dalamar hiss but Raistlin ignored his apprentice. “I will finally sever the link between him and myself.”

“And your other plans?” her eyes held his, demanding answers. “How does the stone fit in with your end goal?”

Raistlin's eyes narrowed dangerously now, “That, my dear Yurielle, remains to be seen,” he replied quietly. He no longer saw the shyness from a moment ago nor the woman from last night that needed comfort. This woman had the look of someone who was ready to face down an impossible task.

Yurielle held the archmage's golden eyes for several moments before she nodded and broke her gaze from his. She tried, but she couldn't suppress a shudder as ice seemed to crawl up her spine at what she saw in those strange eyes of his. Those eyes of his held such power and ambition, all laced with secrets. “So then we come back to it, what do I do now...”

“You are no prisoner of mine Yurielle, of that you can find comfort in,” Raistlin said, his voice no longer menacing. “We will wait and we will see what official word comes from Wayreth. I suspect that we will need to deal with them in one way or another eventually. Until then, we solve our little problem with a certain archlich. They can lick their wounds while we here gain in power.”

“To what end?” she asked, afraid to hear his answer.

“What end is there?” came his reply, spoken so softly in that quiet voice of his.

An unnamed dread filled Yurielle then, for she once again felt like a mouse trapped inside a den of vipers.

 

***

 

Yurielle spent the rest of that day learning the ways of the two occupants of the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas. Raistlin showed her around, giving her a tour of more of the library, the laboratory, and several rooms that held magical items and artifacts that he was studying. All the while Yurielle followed him; she quietly observed him and, despite her trepidation from earlier, found that she enjoyed his presence now just as much as she had those many weeks ago.

Raistlin Majere was intelligent and soft spoken, seemingly distant until he got onto a subject he was fascinated with. Then he interacted freely and openly, listening to what she had to say with curiosity and respect while offering his own points of view which were often deep and insightful. Yurielle quickly could tell how passionate he was in his magical pursuits and knowledge. Both of which were deep and varied. Though he wore the black robes, she could tell he held all three gods of the arcane craft in deep reverence. Yurielle also saw the pride he held for his Tower, the structure that he himself had claimed after hundreds of years of lying dormant.

Only Raistlin Majere had dared enter and tame the evil that lurked within this place. But, she couldn't help but wonder, did he tame it, or was the darkness just welcoming home its rightful master?

After a few hours of Raistlin's company, the archmage decided that it was prudent that her and his apprentice 'work out their differences'. So she was subjected to following the elf around for a time. Thankfully it wasn't as bad as she feared. For Dalamar then showed her his prized greenhouse that jutted out the back of the left side of the Tower.

Here is where the two black robes grew not only most of the herbal spell components they would ever require, but also a wide variety of edible plants. Besides herbs and food, the dark elf had also coaxed to life many flowering shrubs and trees that he missed from his ruined homeland. Yurielle saw a different side to the arrogant dark elf now as he tenderly cared for a small rose bush that for some reason wasn't taking a graft that he had attached to one of the branches. She watched quietly as he softly spoke to the plant in the delicate elven language, coaxing it to grow.

Yurielle helped him work with the plants, tending the herbs and picking what was ready and assisting him in taking the various items to their proper work stations. She had to admit that the two mages had a very nice set up here as she helped Dalamar hang lavender to dry. The work stations were nowhere near the size or scope of what was at Wayreth. But since it was only the two – now three – of them, the place seemed dauntingly huge and empty.

Once they were finished in the green house, the dark elf also showed her the stables behind the right side of the tower were the two kept their horses as well as a few goats, a cow and, to Yurielle's absolute delight, a handful of plucky hens. The dark elf explained that even though they did go out into the city for food at times, since coming here, Dalamar insisted that the two become more self-sufficient. Growing a large portion of what the two required to eat as well as having access to milk and eggs made sure that they would be able to hold out if the residents of the city decided they no longer wished the black robes to be there, as they had done back before the days of the Cataclysm.

The whole back of the tower was fenced in with ivy covered stone, the plants were withered from winters chill but Yurielle could see how it could possibly be quaint in the springtime, especially if the shrubs along the perimeter flowered like she guessed they might. It was an odd contrast to the sight that one would face if they looked up over the stone wall, beyond the fence of black glass to the Grove beyond where dark shadows lurked beneath the twisted trees.

Finally Dalamar showed her the small kitchen they used in what was a servant's row of rooms along one of the lower levels of the tower. The main kitchen on the bottom level was far too large for only the two of them to use. They took the milk and eggs they had gathered and put it in the well-stocked larder where rows of wine, cheese, and other items were put for storage and kept fresh with the use of various spells and enchanted items.

After the three met for a small supper, Yurielle was allowed freedom to the lower third of the tower only. Anything above that, one of the other mages needed to be with her so she decided not to sate her curiosity too quickly as she went on her own to explore.

At first she was hesitant about running into one of the Guardians, but Raistlin stated flatly that he had ordered the wraiths to stay within the Grove until he figured out what to do with them. Yurielle wanted to speak to him about what she had sensed, but she didn't want to add more to her troubles. She had just gotten here and feared bringing up such things would put her in unfavorable light with the archmage. So the woman decided to, for now at least, not let such things worry her. She had enough to keep her mind occupied without thoughts of liches and mages with ambitions of godhood.

So now, satisfied that she wasn't going to have the life sucked out of her by one of the undead beings, Yurielle left the mages' presence to explore on her own. There was so much to find and discover in the rooms that she _could_ go in. Even if they didn't contain many interesting books or items, she found a strange excitement in going through the empty bed chambers and dusty rooms on the levels Raistlin permitted her.

Raistlin let her explore, calling her a kender when she'd appear with dust smeared skin and cob webs in her hair, wearing a giant grin on her face. She'd only laugh and twirl past him, on her way to find some new room to dig around in, humming all the while and filling the dark tower with her music.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to be honest, I've kind of hit a writer's block! >_<  
> I have many, many weeks of chapters to post before I hit a stalemate but it's still causing a bit of anxiety!  
> In the meantime I've been writing a document going over my thoughts and ideas and compiling my reason's for writing this story as well as my own headcannon's involved. Hopefully working through my thoughts will unclog my brain!  
> I do plan on posting that as well so look for that soon!


	18. Shatter

The following day Yurielle awoke wide eyed and refreshed. A smile played on her lips as she readied herself and braided her long hair all the while humming a wordless tune. She took in the room around her as she did so, her eyes falling on the empty shelves and then to the very few that held her meager items. Soon she hoped to be able to fill those bare shelves with her own treasures. But, even being mostly empty, this space felt like hers in a way that her room in Wayreth never had.

It was such a dark tower. Creepy and silent as the grave, most rooms were bone cold as no fire had been lit inside of them for years uncounted. There had been layers of dust and centuries of neglect that had filled most of the rooms she had explored yesterday, leaving them with a sense of quiet sadness and longing. In a way, it had also made her sad. And because of this, she had sang her songs, easing the ache that had seeped into the ancient walls.

Yurielle knew the history of the Tower, how it had been threatened before the Cataclysm, how the occupants had fled before the archmage Rannoch had flung himself down onto the gates. Forever cursing the Tower and plunging it into the forlorn state it found itself in still to this day.

But Yurielle couldn't help it, cursed or no, this place was like a dream come true. There were just so many secrets and objects to discover hidden deep inside of it. She had found several common everyday items that had long been forgotten as she had explored. Even if they were just things like old tapestries that hung disregarded and faded in dark corners or a glittering button forgotten under a rug, Yurielle was enjoying finding such simple, innocuous treasures in the darkness.

She felt some kind of strange joy in flinging open curtains that had for decades blocked out all sun and moonlight. She had spent many long minutes just enjoying sitting in chairs that had long ago forgotten what their purpose was as she watched the sunlight play on dust motes in the silent rooms. Yurielle would then close the curtains again, plunging the rooms back into their dark forlorn states. It wasn't her place to banish the all-consuming darkness here. Just ease it. Just remind it that there was still light outside, that there was still someone who thought of it.

It was a bit morbid she realized. Maybe a bit backwards than how most people thought. Perhaps it was even a bit mad. But it was just the way that she was and had always felt about such things.

As she readied herself, she pondered again why she enjoyed the dark and macabre. She didn't exactly know why curses and things like that fascinated her so. But she had always been that way. Everything fascinated her really, but it was the scary stories she loved most when growing up. Not the stories of princesses finding their heroes, not of the happy endings that were expected at the end of most stories. No. She found the opposite ones fascinating. Thinking of her own life she knew that not every story was happy, but that didn't make them less worthy of being told. That was part of the reason she loved reading such dark tomes like the necromancer's book she had been studying when Raistlin had first met her.

She needed to understand the evil in the world around her and needed to try to see things from its point of view. Yurielle wasn't afraid to see the things that most people refused to look at. It was a fact that there were evil and horrors in the world. These things had their places. Light could not exist without dark.

Everyone had always thought her odd once they learned this about her. Yurielle knew she wasn't what anyone ever expected when they first met her.

It wasn't her fault she loved to dance in the darkness!

Oh that didn't mean she wasn't afraid at times. Of course she was! She had seen many terrible things due to the fact that she wore the black robes. Yurielle had seen evil creatures and black magic that still made her skin crawl at the memories. She had seen curses wither and destroy victims faster than she could help them. But in the end, there was always her and her strange ability to nullify the terror. Whether with a song or a laugh, she had always been able to ward herself from many dark entities and forces that she had come across. Finally she was beginning to understand now that the strange spark within her, one she now knew was lit by the wild magic, was what fueled this.

The Library in Palanthas was one of her most favorite places that she had ever gone into. That crypt deep below the ancient Library was filled with semi living things that had, slowly over the eons, grown and festered in the darkness, feeding off the dark energies that many of those books gave off. Yurielle couldn't imagine a more perfect place to just BE and exist and shine.

That is, until she came here.

Yurielle's smiled widened, for already she felt at home in this strange dark tower.

She felt her cheeks tint slightly as she finished her hair and straightened her robes around herself. Yurielle also knew that a large part of the reason she liked it here so much had to do with the Tower's master. He was a man who was just as cursed and dark as the building itself. One who was just as secretive and seemingly forbidden.

Yurielle wasn't fool enough to believe that she could ever figure out Raistlin Majere or even begin to solve every secret he held behind that cold mask he wore. That, like completely banishing the darkness that held the Tower or the Grove around it, was not her purpose.

But she liked to think that she had seen into at least a few of his rooms. That she had perhaps found one or two hidden treasures that he had forgotten about himself. Or, at the very least, that she had perhaps reminded him that someone did think about him.

Despite everything she had ever been told about the strange golden mage, Yurielle knew that there was more to the man than anyone else could see. Everyone that is, except her.

She walked to the door of her bedchambers and took a slow breath to reign in her thoughts. “Stop it!” she scolded herself, knowing she was acting like an infatuated teenager again. But now, instead of elves, she was suddenly dangerously fascinated with dark wizards. She groaned at the absurdity of it all.

The Hourglass Mage wasn't her responsibility to figure out. Cursed or no, mysterious or not, Raistlin Majere was his own entity and had his own path and existence. The fact that, at least for the moment, their paths seemed connected was all the reason for being here that Yurielle needed to focus on right now.

He had asked her for aide in riding himself of the archlich that had attached itself to him and that was exactly what she meant to do. She was a curse breaker who played in the dark so that others did not have to. She was to shine in the darkness to remind others it didn't have to be evil.

It wouldn't be her fault if some of her light may or may not happen to fall upon him while she was here. What he would do with that light, or how he reacted to it, was entirely up to him and Yurielle knew this.

Again she was reminded that this was why the gods had asked her during her Test of High Sorcery to wear the black robes. This is why she had allowed herself to be claimed by Nuitari. She had made this agreement as a conscious choice.

Yurielle finally understood then why she was the way that she was. The darkness was a reverent thing to her, something that didn't need to be always be banished or chased away. It just needed understanding and someone to be there to light the way if help was needed.

It was _because_ she loved the secrets, _because_ she loved the darkness, that she could walk this path. And walk it she would no matter how dark it got because her song always freed her heart and fueled her inner light. This new strange wild magic that she possessed was the key to it all. She just knew it.

And so Yurielle opened the door to her chambers and went out into the Tower itself.

She couldn't explain why, but she knew today was going to be a good day.

Today things were going to change like they never had before.

 

***

 

Yurielle's first stop of course was the library. Soon she was joined by the other two occupants of the Tower. The woman then learned that Raistlin had decided that Dalamar was to take her into the city in order to find everything she would need and replace what she had lost.

It seemed to her that the two males had already thought out their expedition, for Raistlin was carrying a dark green robe with a thick cloak in his slender hands as he approached her. He quickly explained that she would not be wearing her black robes. Instead Raistlin insisted she wear this one trimmed in silver fox fur. It was of elven make, with tiny silver stitches of leaves and flowers along the hems. Delicately sewn, the plush thick fabric was warm and comfortable. She soon discovered that it fit her shape nicely once she had put it on over her regular clothes in place of her plain black robes.

Soon their preparations were nearly complete and, as an afterthought, Yurielle used a simple cantrip to darken her hair to black, the long end of her braid draped over her shoulder. She raised the thick hood to admire her handiwork in a small mirror that hung over a desk tucked in a bright corner of the room.

In the reflexion Yurielle saw Dalamar scowl. “A very poor elf you make...” he drawled. “This isn't going to be very convincing.”

She shot him a glare and Raistlin said irritated, “I swear by the god's it's going to be a miracle that you two don't murder one another before you get back!”

The elf agreed, “This was your idea my Shalafi and may I just say,” he turned his eyes to Yurielle, “I'm not all that pleased with playing babysitter.”

Yurielle's glare deepened and she was about to say something but Raistlin cut her off as he said, “We all know that if any spies are in the city, if they see anyone with me other than you Dalamar, they will instantly know it was her no matter how we dress her up.” He then turned to her and adjusted the hood around her face, tucking the wisps of silver fur away from her cheeks, “Keep your hood up and let him do the talking as much as possible.”

“I know I know...” she grumbled. The last thing she wanted was to follow Dalamar around Palanthas posing as a servant. Dalamar also was going in disguise and was wearing a dark blue cloak over rich and lavish winter clothes. His own hair he had glamored to bright blonde and had braided in the usual elven fashion. His usual dark brown eyes were now a startling sea green.

Yurielle was glad that she had gotten over her silly fascination of elves long ago for he looked like a pretentious fool and she told him as much repeatedly as they made their preparations. Dalamar only laughed and offered his own colorful comments. Raistlin rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation as the two bickered.

“If you two don't shut up I'll just go myself and leave you both here to muck out the stables!” the archmage growled. His patience was wearing thin and he was beginning to wonder if having more than one apprentice was even a good idea. Truly this strange woman wasn't worth him losing his sanity!

“And what a fine figure you'll make Shalafi on your shopping trip while you buy female clothes and items. You shall be the talk of Palanthas for years to come!” the elf grinned at his stern master.

Yurielle tried to hide her smile behind her hand but it was useless. The mental image of a stern and scowling Raistlin standing in the middle of a woman's frilly boutique trying to buy the things she required, undergarments and other feminine clothing items among them, was just too much! She attempted to mask her bark of laughter with a cough but her endeavor at not giggling failed miserably when Raistlin just turned on his heels and stalked away. She thought she caught a slight tint of red to his golden skin before he left. The look on his face only added to her fit of giggles.

Following the archmage up to the laboratory, Yurielle stayed out of the way as Raistlin and Dalamar prepared the teleportation circle. Once the circle was made Raistlin turned to her again. Reaching into his robes he brought out a small bag. Yurielle heard the clink of coins within it as it shifted in his hand. “Here, this is for you.”

Yurielle didn't take it from him. Instead she blinked, “Oh that reminds me! I nearly forgot!” she brought out the bag of gold that he had left with the Conclave. She had it within her satchel that always hung at her side. “I took this...” she presented it to him. “I was going to return it to you.”

An amused smirk tugged at Raistlin's usually stoic face. “Aren't you full of surprises Yurielle. If I didn't know any better I would think you had kender blood in you. What other talents are you hiding from the world I wonder?”

“I didn't steal it!” she stated and felt her cheeks flush. That was such a kender thing to respond with! “It didn't belong to them so I took it back,” she held it out to him with one hand and with the other went to take the much smaller purse that he was offering.

With a quick flick of his hand, the smaller coin purse disappeared somewhere into Raistlin's sleeve and he pushed the bag in Yurielle's hand back to her. “Keep it.”

Yurielle's mouth dropped open, “I can't keep this!” she stated when she could talk.

“It's yours Yurielle,” he insisted.

“But...”

“It is but a drop out of the treasures that I myself came upon when I entered this Tower. You will need coin to help build your new life. I suggest you take that which was meant to pay off your debt to those who lied to you and use it yourself anyway that you see fit.”

Yurielle could do nothing but stare blankly at the archmage for many seconds as he watched her eyes glisten over with gratitude. Swiftly, before Raistlin could react, Yurielle had closed the gap between them and had already wrapped her slender arms around him, trapping him in a warm embrace. Petal soft lips lightly kissed the golden plane of his cheek before she stepped away from him. “Thank you,” she whispered softly as she drew away, leaving him surrounded by the soft scent of roses and mint.

“You're welcome,” he mumbled awkwardly and cleared his throat. “You'd both best be on your way.”

Yurielle nodded and joined Dalamar within the teleportation ring. The only sound in the room was the even cadence of the elf's voice as he recited the spell that would carry them from the Tower. The woman's eyes met the archmage's from where he stood across the room. In the very heartbeat before she winked out of existence, Yurielle saw that unmistakable look of uncertainty and fear within those hourglass orbs.

 

***

 

“I can't figure out why he fancies you,” Dalamar grumbled as they roamed through the cold winter streets of Palanthas. Both of them had arms full of bags and parcels as they made their way back to the alley where the elf would recast the spell to take them back to the Tower. They had made quick work of buying her what she would need and were both glad to be on their way out of the crowds.

Yurielle blinked at him as they rounded a corner. “Who?” she asked in all sincerity as she shuffled the packages in her arms better. Most of the parcels they carried contained new clothes and yards of fabric she would make into her own robes. They had also acquired a whole new herbal kit as well as an even bigger array of herbs and supplies than she had when she was at Wayreth.

He shot her a piercing green look, “You still are a daft woman,” he said and she could feel a spell weave around them as he cast a silence spell to mask their conversation. “Raistlin Majere, our Shalafi and Master of the Tower, you've met him right?”

She flushed deeply and he sighed, “You blush the same as you did back then...” his voice was quiet, his eyes focusing back to another time.

“I don't know what you're talking about or what you're implying,” she said hurriedly as she pulled her hood farther down over her face to try to hide her traitorous skin.

“Just as clueless too,” he said, rolling those almond shaped eyes. “He's fancied you since meeting you I'd wager. Though I can't figure out why, I mean sure you're pretty enough, for a common human,” he said dryly. “Not that he can see that,” he added just to rub it in.

She scowled, “You know, we were having a halfway decent day before you opened your stupid mouth dark elf!” Yurielle shuffled the parcels in her arms a little differently once more for they were awkward and hard to carry.

He halted in his tracks and waited until she stopped. “Look,” he began, for once being serious. “I'm sorry for how I treated you all those years ago. I was lost and still in pain from my exile and the destruction of my homeland. You were so young and eager... such a delightful distraction from my problems, but I should not have used you for my own amusement. Take this as the only apology you are getting.”

“Is _he_ making you apologize?” she dared to ask.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, “No. But I will tell you that he had STRONG words with me after you left,” he took a step closer to her then. “He is a terrifying force to behold when he is wroth. So I choose to ask for your forgiveness instead of going through _that_ again. I very much enjoy not being dead.” Suddenly his free hand went to the edge of his fine spun jacket.

Yurielle's eyes widened when he undid the first few buttons and he pulled open the fabric, exposing part of his chest. There she could see two oozing sores marring his perfect elven flesh. It hummed of curse magic. “There are three more marks you cannot see,” he stated, reclosing the jacket. “He placed his hand there and gave me his punishment after I was forced to tell him in great detail what you and I did and thankfully did NOT do together at the Tower of Wayreth. I fear if I had made you mine, he would have touched other things that I cherish a bit more.”

She looked at him, horrified. “Raistlin did that to you?” she didn't want to believe it, yet she had seen the telltale wisps of gold around the wounds. “Dalamar I...”

He cut her off with that same hand raised. “It matters not. I knew some punishment would come to me one day. I am a spy for the Conclave after all. But I will not betray my Shalafi. He knows this. Though like I said, he fancies you more than he cares that I spy on him. This is what I cannot figure out... I do not know what purpose he has in mind for you.”

Her eyes were still on his chest where those wounds were, “I can try to remove the curse if you wish. I dislike you Dalamar... but you don't deserve to bear that on my account,” she said sadly.

The elf shook his head as they continued on their way, “No. I wear it as a reminder to never cross him. He is a powerful mage Yurielle, and extremely dangerous. I think you need to realize that.”

She followed him, a few steps behind like a true servant would. “I forgive you...” she said softly. “But you're still an irritating ass.”

He merely chuckled and shook his head, “Yes well, that may be. But still, you need to understand fully that his ambitions run deeper than any other force that drives him, besides the magic. He has earned his reputation through acts you cannot dare to guess.”

“Are you afraid for me?” she asked, surprised.

He glanced at her quickly, “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I have yet to figure out his reasons for inviting you to the Tower. It may be simple curiosity, but yet again he may have plans for you. You know of what the Conclave suspects that his end game is...”

“You told them. Didn't you? You told them that he plans on godhood,” she said, suddenly understanding.

Dalamar nodded as they walked, they were only about a block away from the teleportation circle. “Only by his own admission.”

“You report back to him on what the Conclave does!” again, she understood and suddenly felt stupid in not realizing that the elf was indeed playing a very dangerous game. He was spy for both Raistlin AND the Conclave! “You are far braver than I ever thought.”

“Living within the Dark Tower holds many dangers yes,” he stated. “However, learning from the greatest master of our age is far more important to me. Only he has been able to unravel the hidden tomes within that Tower. There are spells there that have been lost to the rest of the magehood.” He looked at her then, his magically changed eyes glittered hungrily, “You cannot even guess at the knowledge he has.”

Yurielle couldn't suppress a shudder as they rounded the last corner. Suddenly Dalamar came to a stop. His body stiffened and was about to say something when a voice filled the air. “Dalamar Argent!”

The elf froze, “Shit...” he cursed, the human swear sounded odd with his elven accent. His almond shaped eyes roamed the roof tops.

“What is it?” Yurielle whispered, coming to his side uncertainly.

“We are surrounded!” those green tinted eyes showed no hint of fear, only annoyance.

“By order of the Conclave of High Sorcery, you are to give the renegade wizard known as Yurielle over to us forthwith. Failure to do so will result in death!” the voice floated down at them from somewhere hidden above.

Yurielle's eyes widened in fear, “Gods no!” she whispered breathlessly.

“I know not what you mean kind sirs,” Dalamar replied, his Silvenesti accent suddenly thick. “This is merely my ward...” he was unable to continue as suddenly he was forced to pull her backward behind the corner of the building as fire erupted around the corner's edge. “Dammit!” he swore and grabbed her arm and made a mad dash back down the street, yanking the woman long behind him.

His head tilted up when his ears caught the sound of a soft click. He moved quickly, pulling her down with him onto the ice covered walkway a second before a crossbow bolt whizzed past them. “MOVE!” he ordered, pushing her back to her feet. He was stronger than he looked at had her flung up away from him with only the strength of one arm.

Together they ran to the nearest alley, their supplies forgotten on the street behind them. The elf closed his eyes a moment as they ran, Yurielle heard him whisper, “Shalafi, we have a problem. Mage hunters near the rune circle...” he sent his message and took hold of her once again. His grip on her arm was like iron as he flung her into a deep doorway for cover just as another bolt hit the wooden frame where she would have passed by if he would not have halted her.

The woman's eyes were wide and frightened as she tried to see their attackers from where she was hidden behind the elf's back, her body pressed against a heavy door, shielded with his body. Her hand went into her hidden component pouch; speaking a few words she made them both invisible.

“They'll still find us...” the elf stated, again grabbing her arm, he yanked her along. “We have to double back!”

“We can't go back there! The circle is guarded!” she replied, horrified.

“Without a doubt,” he stated, slowing their pace as they reached the opposite end of the alley. “But Raistlin will appear there...”

He didn't finish the sentence for down the road a fireball erupted. The massive flames belched out from the opening of the ally, flaring out into the street, screams filled the air.

“Ah, right on time,” she heard the elf's voice. Suddenly he reappeared next to her, having dispelled the invisibility on himself. “You stay out of sight, I'll draw them off. Run to him the first chance you get!”

Before she could reply, Dalamar dashed off across the street, she watched as a bolt of lightning arched down at him from above, narrowly missing him. Unable to do anything to help the dark elf she could only stand there under her invisibility spell behind a rubbish bin and wait nervously.

Booms and sounds of magical battle erupted around her but the cacophony was suddenly laced with a menacing growl coming from behind her. Yurielle slowly turned to find a large wolf like creature sniffing around the doorway that they had only just vacated. It raised its head then and turned to face her. Two massive holes were burned into its skull, leaving the eye sockets nothing but empty voids of blackness.

But Yurielle knew that the thing saw her for it was an arcane-hunter, the cursed pets of the mage hunters. They were born as dire wolves, but then twisted and infused with dark magic; its only purpose was to find its magical prey. Sniff out the scent of their arcane targets and rip them apart without mercy.

The poor thing was long dead and stank of rot and decay. With her eyes Yurielle could see the runes around its body that gave it its unnatural power, its ability to smell magic and keep it animated and held in a state of undeath.

Suddenly, the beast howled. The sound froze her blood and she found that she could not move as the creature sprang towards her. Closing her eyes she instinctively reacted to her terror the only way she knew how to.

Yurielle started to laugh.

Calling upon the wild magic her invisibility spell dropped, exposing her to her attackers as the space around her sparked with her tinkling laughter. She opened her eyes, expecting the beast to be upon her, but instead it had stopped. It stood before her, just inches away, sniffing the air, confused.

Another explosion ripped through the area down the street and she could hear lightning crackle followed by shouts and a scream that was horribly cut off. The beast turned its head and growled low in its throat and made ready to pounce towards this other threat, for some reason no longer considering her one.

“No you don't friend,” she said softly, her hand went out to touch its thick black fur. The beast jerked away from her touch and wailed as if in agony. “Poor thing...” she whispered to it as it screeched horribly. “Let me ease your pain,” she soothed.

Raistlin emerged then from the end of the alleyway where the rune circle sat. Five smoldering bodies as well as piles of ooze that were once people lay behind him. He took in the scene as a lightning bolt arched down at him; it hit him and raced along his skin. Gathering the energy into his hand, he launched it back at his attacker and smirked darkly as another foe fell before his power.

He had seen Dalamar scramble his way up the side of a building on the other side of the street. Anxiously Raistlin searched for Yurielle, he gasped when he saw her, standing before a great black arcane-hunter, her hand lovingly caressing the side of its deformed and rotting face.

She looked up at that second; her bright eyes meeting his, a little smile flitted across her face when she saw him.

Raistlin's relief was quickly stolen from him.

Time froze as her beautiful eyes widened in shock and pain as a crossbow bolt emerged through her right shoulder in a shower of red. Raistlin would never be able to rid himself of the sound she made as her blood sprayed and as she fell forward to the ground onto her knees. He stared in horror as blood and snow mingled around her as she landed hard on the icy street.

Overcome by pain, Yurielle still managed to turn and locate her assailant that stood up on the ledge of the building above her. As she did, the giant monstrosity of the undead beast mirrored her movement. The creature howled and took two huge leaps, lunching itself to the nearest rooftop. In a savage display the creature's massive jaws chomped down over her attacker.

The body flew away headless after one vicious shake.

Raistlin ran to Yurielle who was now motionless, kneeling on the ground, her head bowed. “Yurielle!” he sank down next to her as the beast above them ran from rooftop to rooftop, more screams and yelling could be heard as panic erupted.

His golden hands went to her face, drawing her up to look at him. She was pale; her ashen lips drawn into a thin line. He gasped, for her eyes were pitch black. The archmage realized suddenly that she was linked to the beast, seeing through its senses, possibly even controlling it as it tore apart the mage hunters.

“Yuri!” he shook her. Her head lolled to the side, staring blankly. She made no reply; her dark eyes were seeing things other than him. The creature howled again in the distance as if answering him.

Gathering her up in his arms, the act was a little awkward, trying to balance both her and his staff, Raistlin stood. “Dalamar...?” he said quietly, reopening the message link to his apprentice.

After a moment of silence there a reply came, “Shalafi, I am returning to the rune circle. The arcane-hunter is chasing the remaining mage hunters away!”

“I will be there shortly,” Raistlin replied and turned back to the alleyway that would also take him to the circle, the woman Yurielle held in his thin arms.

Raistlin Majere was not a powerfully built man, all his life he had relied on his burly twin brother in any situation that needed strength. But Caramon wasn't here, and Yurielle was injured. He was not about to wait for the elf to come find them. Raistlin knew that time was of the essence.

He glanced down at her as he stood in the street with her in his arms, wondering if he could make it all the way back to the circle. Her face was deathly pale, eyes still black and staring up at nothing, the crossbow bolt stuck out of her shoulder. Blood was spreading across her clothes rapidly and already soaking into his own. It was dripping off her dangling fingers and onto the snow covered street. Raistlin could hear it splat against the frozen surface of the cobblestones as it fell drop by drop, in tune with her heartbeat. He looked around at the ground, the snow and ice around them was red and slick with her blood.

Yurielle was bleeding badly and he feared that something vital may have been hit.

He would make it there, he had no choice.

Raistlin's own blood surged with a mixture of adrenaline, anger, fear, and the aftermath of his magic as he carried the unresponsive Yurielle back the way he had come. He had made it over halfway when suddenly a huge dark shadow soared over him. A shaggy black form landed in front of him in the ice and snow, sending it flying as the half rotted animal turned and growled menacingly at him. The beast snarled low and sniffed, its jaws gave a crunch and a severed hand fell to the ground, fingers still twitching. “Yurielle,” Raistlin said quietly, staring at the vacant holes where the beast's eyes should be. “I need you to come back to me...”

Suddenly the woman gasped in his arms and groaned painfully. Looking down, he saw her indigo eyes flutter open. Her left hand instinctively went to the bolt sticking out of her right shoulder as the pain washed over her.

“Don't move,” Raistlin commanded and side stepped the beast that was still growling at him but allowed him to pass. They were nearly to the alleyway, smoke and the smell of burning flesh still wafted out onto the street.

“Raist...” she said faintly, her eyes closing tightly against the pain.

His breath caught, the only person to ever call him Raist was his twin. It had been years since he had heard that word spoken by anyone much less even thought of it. Emotions and memories abruptly flooded through his mind, bombarding him unexpectedly and causing him to increase his pace.

Suddenly Raistlin felt like the roles in his life had been reversed. He was no longer weak and frail. Now, someone needed him, and by the gods he was not going to lose this one because his traitorous body was too weak to save her!

“Be still,” he said gently to her as she groaned again in pain, “I've got you. We're almost home.”

Just then Dalamar came running down the street at them, the crumpled bags and half smashed parcels in his arms. The unglamored elf froze when he saw Raistlin, brown eyes wide at the sight of the injured woman in his Shalafi's arms.

The golden mage shot him a withering look that made Dalamar gulp. “Don't just stand there!” Raistlin's raspy voice filled the street. “Get to the circle, you must cast the spell!” Dalamar nodded and shot down the alley, reaching the end first, he began his preparations.

Raistlin then turned to follow, he was just now beginning to feel the weight of her in his arms and he was forced to slow his pace just slightly. He heard a strangled sob and he glanced back down at her, she was taking in the destruction around them as he carried her to safety.

The walls of the alleyway were charred and blackened, still smoldering bodies littered the stonework. Their forms were contorted, their black skulls open wide in silent screams. The smell of flesh and burning was thickest here as they passed the corpses. They neared the end of the alley then, and here the remains were nothing more than black smears of ooze and gore as the ones first to meet the archmage had taken the full brunt of his anger when he had stepped out of the teleporation circle. “Don't look,” he commanded gently. “Close your eyes Yurielle.”

She obeyed and buried her head in his chest with a sob; he could feel her body trembling against his. With renewed strength he doubled his pace as they passed the grisly bodies and joined the elf at the dead end of the alleyway. Raistlin said nothing as the elf began casting the spell.

The great wolf bounded down the lane then and skidded to a halt, its empty eyes staring at them. Its great jaws were open, blood and saliva dripped from black and broken teeth.

Yurielle stirred, Raistlin heard her whimper as she shifted in his arms. “To the Grove...” she said weakly. “Go on...” The wolf gave a great howl as it darted back down the alleyway away from them.

Hourglass eyes stared down at the woman incredulously as Dalamar finished the spell and they were whisked away by the magic.

 

***

 

Seconds later the three black robes appeared back in the laboratory inside of the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas.

“Take her,” Raistlin ordered his apprentice with a cold growl as he turned to him with Yurielle in his arms. “Get her to her chambers and light all the candles within. Put pressure on the wound but do not remove the bolt until I get there!”

The elf gently took the woman from his master and carried her from the room as Raistlin gathered the supplies he would need to remove the bolt and treat her wound.

Much of the archmage's young adult life had been spent learning the basics of herbalism and healing arts from Solace's local healer. An old woman, she had been wise in the way of herbs and properly dressing wounds and applying salves and ointments that would reduce pain and prevent infections. In the early days after his Test, Raistlin had also served within a mercenary army and helped inside the surgical tents after many conflicts. He knew wounds and had seen plenty of gore during his younger years of magehood.

He had gotten a good look at Yurielle's injury; the bolt had pierced through her shoulder and had lodged itself there. The angle looked like it had missed her lung and any vital organs. But arteries and veins were another matter, for she was losing more blood than he would have expected. The bolt had gone through the bone of her shoulder blade, probably breaking it or splintering parts of it. There was also the possibility that it had broken ribs as well. He just couldn't be sure of the extent of the damage until he examined it more closely.

If a blood vessel had been hit, it would only bleed worse once the bolt was removed and he would have little time to stop the blood flow. Even if this wasn't the case, it was going to be a painful healing process and any small splinters of bone or bolt shaft left within the wound would only fester.

If it would be any other person, Raistlin would not have batted an eyelash at what he was going to need to do. But for some reason, the thought of digging in Yurielle's shoulder, extracting chunks of bone and wood, of searching for broken blood vessels, made his stomach wrench.

But he would not let the elf do it! Anger flared in him again, strengthening his resolve as he gathered the last of what he would need.

A part of Raistlin's brain knew that if no one had been with her, the woman would most likely be dead or captured. He also knew that if he himself had been the one with her, the outcome would have been no different.

Maybe.

His anger then turned to himself. He was foolish to think that the Conclave had not suspected she may have gotten to Palanthas so fast. It was well known that mage hunters were ruthless in their hunt. Perhaps they were already within the city on other business.

Another thought entered the archmage's mind then. His blood turned to ice and Raistlin did not want to think about the possibility that Dalamar had betrayed him.

No! Raistlin wouldn't go down that trail of thought. The Conclave wasn't stupid. Raistlin would be the first on their list of suspects. He was just surprised at the speed and efficacy of the mage hunters finding her. The web of Par-Salian wove much farther and deeper than Raistlin could have ever expected.

What made his blood boil the worst was that the mage hunters had used crossbows! Such a thing was unheard of and cowardly! Raistlin himself had almost been skewered by several when he had appeared at the end of the alley, only his iron hard grip on the magic had saved him. That, and his anger. For they had attacked Yurielle.

 _His_ Yurielle!

Fury and rage had been his fuel and he had unleashed an inferno at them the very exact second that he had appeared within the city. The mages there around the circle had no chance at surviving his wrath. He had incinerated them and any bolts that had managed to be fired at him.

Grabbing the Staff of Magius from where it leaned against a table, he knew he would need its bright light; he headed downstairs after his apprentice.

His face was a grim golden mask.

 

***

 

Yurielle wove in and out of consciousness as the two black robe mages cut the upper quadrant of her clothes away in order to expose her shoulder and better examine her wound. She was barely aware as they snapped the bolt down shorter, heated the end of it and soaked her wound in antiseptic before one of them yanked the shaft clean through her shoulder with one swift and strong tug.

She knew that she had screamed then, because the pain had sharpened her senses for just a moment. Through the sounds of her own cries and the rush of pain and blood beating in her ears, the woman could remember hearing Raistlin's voice, his too warm fingers on her skin as he staunched the bleeding.

He was trying to calm her. “You're alright Yurielle... I'm here....”

Oblivion swallowed her then.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man that took a turn didn't it?!?! Sorry! (but not sorry *grins evilly*)
> 
> Thank you everyone who is sticking with me for this story. You guys are honestly the best! I keep striving to make this an entertaining and somewhat decent story. You're comments and feedback always make my day!


	19. Haze of Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologizes in advance as this chapter is quite long! I struggled with it in trying to shorten it or cut it into 2 chapters. But I ultimately decided to keep it as one and not split it into 2 parts.

A faint shifting noise made Yurielle stir awake. Her eyelids were heavy and vision blurry for several moments after she attempted to open her eyes. Blinking a few times they finally cleared and she realized that she was lying in her bed, propped up on several pillows. The fire in the hearth blazed and every candle in the room was lit, making the space around her bright as day so not a shadow was to be seen.

Every shadow besides what was cast from the man who sat in the high backed chair next to her bed.

Raistlin sat slumped within it like a streak of darkness, his head propped up on the armrest with one lean arm, his hand over his eyes. His long white hair was completely tied back away from his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his features. He had removed his robes and was wearing black pants and a blue tunic that he had rolled the fabric of the long sleeves above his elbows. It looked like the material was splattered in many places with dark liquid.

Then Yurielle realized that it was dried blood.

Turning her head slightly she looked down at her right shoulder. It was heavily wrapped with pressure bandages, the strips of cloth wove around her shoulder and across her body, pinning her right arm to her chest and cocooning her whole torso tightly so that she could not move. Dully she was aware that she wore nothing from the waist up except the wrappings but she could still feel her leggings on her as she shifted slightly against the sheets to better examine her situation.

Raistlin's head snapped at her slight movement, his eyes meeting hers. “Yuri...” he breathed, his voice strained. In a heartbeat he was there next to her, sitting on the edge of her bed. “Don't move! I've only just put you back together. I wasn't expecting you to awaken so soon...” gently he eased her back down to the pillows.

“What... happened?” she asked with a thick tongue. Closing her eyes she took a few slow breaths as the room did crazy spins around her.

“You and Dalamar were attacked on your way back to the Tower,” his voice floated to her through her dizzy spell.

“Oh yeah....” she said hazily as she vaguely remembered looking down at herself and seeing a bolt sticking out of her. Obviously that hadn't been a bad dream. As she lay there for several minutes waiting for the room to right itself, other memories floated back to her about what had happened. She could recall pain and blood, the smell of fire and sounds of screaming. There was a great black wolf with empty eyes that were so sad. Then memories she didn't quite understand of biting things and tearing things with her own teeth and claws. She recalled feeling such primal anger and raw thirst to kill. The feeling was only sated by tearing apart things with magic.

Then she remembered Raistlin asking her to come back to him.

Her head swam and her mouth tasted funny. Yurielle realized that Raistlin must have given her something to sedate her and ease the pain so that he could remove the bolt she had been shot with. “Gods Raistlin what did you give me?” she knew she was slurring as she reopened her eyes and turned her head to look at him. A curtain of her hair fell across her face at the action.

“I gave you a good dose of poppy syrup,” he stated and brushed the hair from her face, she noticed the color of the strands was normal again as it slid away from her line of vision.

“That's good shit...” she smirked before she forced her eyes to focus on him, her eyebrows furrowing the more she studied the archmage.

He looked tired. No, not tired, exhausted to the point he was about to collapse. Dark smudges bagged under eyes that looked bloodshot and dull. There was a sluggishness to him as he moved to adjust the pillows beneath her. He looked as if the only thing keeping him functioning was his will. “Are you alright?”

Raistlin snorted, “You were shot through the shoulder, lost a lot of blood, and you ask about _me_ Yurielle?” he shook his head incredulously as he finished adjusting the pillow to the position he wanted it.

“You have that look in your eyes again....” she said slowly, trying very hard to think straight.

He looked at her, puzzled. “What look?”

“What?” she asked after a few seconds of gawking at him. She had already forgotten what they were talking about, her medication addled brain locking on to one thing and one thing only. “Your skin is so shiny...” she breathed in wonderment, her eyes widening as she took in the golden sheen to his skin.

Raistlin sighed heavily and she saw some of the tension ease out of him. “Perhaps I have given you a bit too much of the pain medication?” he mused and ran his fingers over her forehead, checking for fever but also moving the hair that insisted on falling in front of her eyes. “Are you in pain?” he asked, gently tucking the strand behind her ear.

“Nope!” she replied, popping the 'P' loudly. The sound of her own voice echoed in her head.

He was looking at her again with that strange look in his eyes as he fussed with the stubborn strands of hair that refused to stay tucked behind her ear.

Yurielle was becoming familiar with this look in his eyes. It was the look that he would give her sometimes when she caught him staring at her when he didn't think she'd notice. It was that weird mixture of fear and uncertainty. Through her own doped up eyes, she watched as that look quickly vanished as he reined in whatever thoughts he was struggling with.

Raistlin may have clamped down on his emotions but eyes did not leave hers as he finished messing with her hair and pillows. Him and his staring problem! Yurielle thought she was going to reprimand him like she had when they had first met. She had every intention of doing so, but his gleaming skin was so distracting to her hazy eyes as he drew his hand away.

“Glittery shiny pretty Raistlin...”Yurielle was singsonging as she reached across herself with her left hand and took hold of his that had just left her space.

Raistlin froze as her fingers lightly began to run along his skin. “So pretty,” she murmured quietly. That hand opened slowly to her probing fingers and soon she was lightly caressing his palm and forearm in much the same matter she had done when she had examined his skin all those weeks ago.

After several moments, or hours, or seconds; Yurielle wasn't sure how long she played with those golden fingers in hers, she finally looked back up at his face, “How bad?”

His eyes met hers and regained some of their hardness, “Not as bad as I had feared, but still bad enough. The bolt went clean through your shoulder blade. The bone cracked and there were a few pieces from the bolt and bone to have to remove. It mercifully missed your ribs and lung as well as any large vessels when it exited. But you still managed to lose a lot of blood. However the wound itself seems clean and should heal nicely. It will be painful as it does and your arm will be fairly useless until the bone mends,” Yurielle heard him say but the words were slow to register in her foggy brain.

The woman tore her eyes from his and looked down at her bound chest and shoulder. So that's why her arm was restrained like this. “That’s... stupid...” she stated as she looked back at him.

Raistlin eyed her then as this information sank into her brain. “I can take you to a healer if you wish. A cleric will be able to mend you faster than lying here... or...” he reached into his shirt and pulled something out from against his chest.

He held it up before her and Yurielle's eyes went wide as all of her senses seemed to sharpen onto the object. She had never seen the artifact, but the evil radiating off of it made her skin crawl. The archmage held before her a dark green stone. Red flecks sparked at her from its surface, like drops of blood that flashed in the bright light of the room. “The Bloodstone of Fistandantilus can heal physical wounds...”

“No...!” she said, her voice was thin and high pitched. “Get... get it away!” That horrid oily blackness she had come to understand as Fistandantilus's essence rippled off the stone in waves like a heavy miasma of evil. Just looking at it made her feel sick.

Raistlin watched as all the color drained once again from her face at the sight of the pendant. Quickly he tucked it back into his shirt against his chest.

Yurielle eyed where the necklace disappeared back into his tunic. “You... you're _wearing_ that?”

The mage met her gaze carefully, “I need to learn about it Yurielle. We both know it's the key to unbinding him from me.”

She closed her eyes and turned her head away from Raistlin, refusing to look at him. She felt like she was going to vomit.

Raistlin sat quietly next to Yurielle on the bed and watched her as she breathed in and out slowly, trying to chase the sudden nausea from herself.

“Please take it off...” she whimpered.

Her face suddenly came back around to look at him. Tears were glistening in her glassy eyes, “Please... I don't like it on you! Put it outside or... or at least across the room. Just not near me... not _ON_ you!” her voice cracked with horror and panic. “Please!” she pleaded desperately.

Raistlin could see that she was clearly upset and agitated. So reluctantly he obeyed her request. Removing the silver chain from around his neck he walked over to the far side of the room and placed it on one of the empty shelves. On his way back to her he began to extinguish the candles. The room slowly dimmed as he returned to her bedside.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I'm sorry that I brought it up Yurielle,” he said flatly. “I only do as you ask because it's not worth you getting upset over. Especially not right now.”

He came to a stop and stood near her on the left side of her bed now. “You need to rest. I'll check on you after...” his words trailed off when her left hand reached out to him. He was too far away for her to actually touch him this time now that he was on the other side of the bed.

“Please sit with me,” she said quietly. “I... I'm not sure I want to be left alone yet.”

He visibly hesitated a moment before slowly lowering himself and sitting next to her again.

“You're staring Majere!” she finally remembered to scold him.

“Just trying to recalculate how much I need to cut back on your next dose of medication,” he stated. “You're a bit loopy.”

“What can I say...” she had fallen back into her half sedated state now, “...I'm a happy drunk! Ooooo there's an idea!” her eyes glittered at that archmage. “We should go drinking someday Raistlin! I know a good tavern across town!” Her voice dropped and she whispered conspiratorially, “Don't tell Dalamar though. He'll ruin our fun!”

Raistlin gave a derisive snort as he sat back against the bare headboard of the bed. “I'd better cut back the dose by half before you start you get any more ridiculous ideas into your head,” he stated as he stretched his legs out along the bed beside her and tried to get comfortable.

He was watching Yurielle from the corner of his eye as she shifted a bit in her own spot; her blankets had fallen away from her torso and were lying around her hips. A glitter around her stomach caught his eyes again. Raistlin had noticed a piercing there for the first time as he and Dalamar were wrapping her arm in place.

He felt heat rise to his face at the memory.

Truth be told he was so focused on digging in her shoulder to remove the few small splinters of bone and bolt that had broken off, that he had given no thought to the fact that she was half naked below him as he worked. Dalamar had hovered nearby, holding the Staff of Magius above the wound, its crystal shone brightly so that the archmage could see what he was doing.

When he had finished the grisly task, Raistlin had then stitched close the cut that he had made across her shoulder blade and it was only when they rolled her over to check the pressure gauze from the exit hole did her femininity become a reminder.

His apprentice quickly covered her with a clean towel to hide her modesty as Raistlin mechanically stitched shut the front of her shoulder. They then folded her right arm over the towel before wrapping it against her body, adding a heavy padding of gauze on both sides of the wound for additional pressure. But the very brief glimpse of white skin and curves of supple flesh was seared into Raistlin's brain.

When they had finished and had laid her back against the pillows, the slight glitter of her belly piercing had shown brightly in the staffs light. Raistlin couldn't help but stare at it, trying to recall if he had seen it while she had danced all those months ago. He was so lost in that memory that he barely heard Dalamar make some backhanded comment on it. Among the Silvenesti, such things were taboo. But it was clear to the archmage that the dark elf had seen it before.

Anger and what he supposed must be jealousy had flared back up in Raistlin then, being reminded yet again that his apprentice had at least a somewhat intimate history with Yurielle.

Dalamar had caught the sudden shift in Raistlin's mood at his meaningless jest. From the look in those unsettling eyes it was clear that his teacher was wroth again. “I'm sorry this happened Shalafi,” the elf had said. “They came out of nowhere... there was nothing to be done but run... I should not have left her side; I merely was trying to draw them away from her.”

“Be thankful she yet breathes Dalamar,” Raistlin had told him in a flat and icy tone. “For that is the only reason you still do.”

With that his apprentice had studiously began to clean up. Quickly the elf was gone, having removed the bloodied bandages, clothing, and instruments from the room as Raistlin washed the woman's blood off his hands and arms in a basin of water.

As if reading his brooding thoughts Yurielle asked, “Where's Dalamar? Is... is he alright?” She readjusted the blankets awkwardly with her good arm; the glitter disappeared under the covers.

Again Raistlin thought of a tiny star going out. His jaw clenched at the memory of seeing her death in his fever dream so long ago and of thinking how her song implied that she would herself fade.

“He yet lives,” Raistlin replied coldly, quickly shoving that image of the woman's body intertwined with the dark goddess. It was an image that repeatedly, still to this day, haunted him during his darkest nights.

She sighed, “I hope you know that this isn't his fault. If it wasn't for him and those ears of his, we'd both be pin cushions right now.”

The thought of more crossbow bolts in her made his gut twist once more.

“It's not your fault either,” she stated and his eyes focused to find hers on him again. “You couldn't have known they'd be in Palanthas so quickly...”

“I misjudged the Conclave Yurielle and my error has resulted in this,” he waved his hand at her current state. “Believe me when I say that I will not do so again.”

Yurielle closed her eyes wearily. She could almost feel the anger rolling off of the archmage from where he sat next to her. “Promise me you won't do anything reckless Raistlin,” she stated, her eyes opening and meeting his.

“I am not the reckless one here Yurielle. You are. Remember?”

She scoffed and murmured, “That was one time... and it was for important research on your skin. You need to stop being so bitter about it.”

“Somehow I don't believe you curse breaker...” his voice sounded far off to her ears.

A smirk played on her lips, “I didn't get so good at what I do without taking risks Raistlin,” Yurielle shook her head slowly, her eyes were beginning to feel heavy. “Some risks are worth it... others not so much,” she mumbled.

After several minutes of silence her voice suddenly filled the room again. “Hey! Why is my hair normal?” she asked out of nowhere, her attention again had wandered onto something else.

Raistlin turned to find her absently twirling a snarled strand around a finger, the red in it flashed in the firelight, the blonde ends were again golden.

“I removed the enchantment,” he confessed.

She lazily turned her head to him and pouted dramatically, “Why?”

“Black doesn't suit you,” he replied evenly.

Her eyebrows slowly rose up across her forehead as she thought about it through a filter of poppy syrup. “Well then... I'd better go tell Nuitari. It's a shame; I bought lots of fabric to make all new pretty robes to wear in his divine honor.”

“That's not what I meant,” she heard him comment as he crossed his arms over his chest. He seemed sullen. “Get some sleep Yurielle,” he stated more loudly. “There's much I need to go prepare for you but I'll stay until you drift off if that is your wish,” the archmage said as he closed his eyes.

Raistlin was exhausted from the heavy use of magic and his head was pounding from the stress of dealing with Yurielle's injury. He needed sleep, and badly. But he refused to leave her side until he knew that her wound had stopped bleeding and that she was resting comfortably.

“It is my wish...” she said quietly, her voice broke.

Those hourglass orbs shot open at the tremor he heard in that voice and he looked back at her. Her eyes were downcast and her lip trembled as she fought back tears. Her breathing became shuddered and uneven as she struggled.

“I'm sorry,” she mumbled and rubbed at her eyes, it wasn't very effective with the use of only one hand, for soon tears slid uncaught down her face. “I'm just tired and drugged up. Everything's happened so fast... changed. I don't do well with change,” she whispered brokenly.

Raistlin watched as tears slid faster and faster down her cheeks, tentatively he reached out a hand and laid it on her good arm. “You'll be alright...” he said softly, wanting to offer some kind of comfort, but at a complete loss as to know exactly what he could do or even say to make things better for her.

The dam that had apparently been holding back the river of tears broke at his gentle reassurance and he watched her crumble before him, the weight of the past few days surging up inside of her again and flooding out in one great wave.

“Shit...” she sobbed. “All I ever do around you is cry...” Angrily she tried to dry her eyes with the edge of her blanket. “I must seem such a pitiful emotional wreck.”

“Not in the least Yuri,” he said quietly. “You're overwhelmed right now. In only the span of a few days your whole life has been turned upside down. You were interrogated by your mentors, learned they killed your family. You fled your only home to take up residence in a dark tower to then be attacked by your peers. A few tears are nothing to be ashamed of,” he reassured as he caressed her arm tenderly, unsure if the touch was even allowed, but she didn't seem to mind it. Raistlin couldn't bring himself to stop as his eyes refused to look away from her creamy white skin, the top of her shoulder had a slight dusting of small freckles.

Raistlin's presence was soothing to Yurielle, the gentle pressure of his warm hand against her arm helped to ground her. She let herself cry softly for a few minutes, the only sound was an occasional sniffle and small hiccup. “You... you called me Yuri...” she said finally.

He looked backed up at her face questioningly, his hand dropping to the beds surface. Then, taking a moment to think about it he did remember calling her that, “I guess I did... is that not acceptable?”

A tiny smile appeared for him through her tears. “I'd like it very much if you'd call me Yuri sometimes...” she said hazily, her tears slowing but her eyes were still sad. He could see that it was a sadness evoked by a faraway memory.

Raistlin gave her a quizzical look as she wiped her eyes.

“Only my twin ever called me Yuri... maybe our parents did too. But I don't remember them very well. They left us before my memory became as sharp as it is now,” she explained.

Raistlin swallowed hard, feeling a sudden lump in his throat. “You called me Raist right after you were wounded... only Caramon ever called me that.” He lowered his eyes away from her, not understanding why such a silly thing as the shortening of a name was so powerful, so connected to the past, to such a simpler time, and if possible, a happier time.

He started when her hand found his on the bed between them. “Can... can I call you Raist?” she asked quietly.

“Sometimes,” he answered softly, meeting her eyes again.

Yurielle saw a fleeting hint of sadness within his golden eyes for a heartbeat before he whisked it away from her. Slowly however she gave him a small smile as his hourglass pupils held hers and he tentatively returned it with a faint ghost of his own.

Both of them came to a silent understanding that these permissions were for each other only, not for the ears of others. It was something only twins understood and the two of them were now alone in the world without their other halves. Something about those silly childhood nicknames were sacred to each of them.

Pulling herself together she took a few shuddering breaths, finally regaining some measure of control over herself. “Thank you...” she said through a tight throat as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for everything. I owe you my life and my freedom... I don't know how to repay you Raistlin.”

“Give no thought to that Yurielle,” he told her as she removed her hand from his to wipe her eyes again. “The fact that you still have your life and your freedom is payment enough,” he assured.

Minutes passed as she calmed. Her crying bout had left her drained and the medication was pulling her back under again as she rested her head back against her pillows. “Ya know... you're not half bad Raistlin. If someone had told me six months ago that I'd be here right now, being comforted by the most powerful mage on Krynn... I'd have told them they were bat shit crazy.”

He didn't know how to respond to that, instead he just let her continue on as she slipped back into her hazy state.

“You act all evil... you have all these evil plans...” her voice was slurring and Raistlin didn't really think she was even aware of what she was saying. Her eyelids were beginning to droop lower and lower with every slow blink. “But I don't think you're really evil at all Raistlin.... _you_ think you are.”

“Yurielle...” he was going to uselessly interrupt into her drug induced rambling but she kept going.

“Don't argue with me archmage,” she mumbled and weakly waved her left hand at him as if she were trying to playfully smack him. “You're not as evil as you think... not deep down inside. So just shut up and let me give you a compliment!” Her mouth turned up into a smile as her eyes shut, “ _I_ think you're nice...”

Raistlin was sure now that she wouldn't actually remember any of this conversation. “Thank you Yurielle,” he said quietly, counting on the fact that she was drifting off. “Despite everything I've tried... I guess you just bring out the best in me...”

Her little smiled deepened, those dimples springing to life on her cheeks, “Nice shiny Raistlin...” she murmured. “My best Raistlin...”

He watched her as she sank into restful sleep once again, his eyes roamed over her face as her breathing slowed and deepened. Very slowly he rose from the bed as to not disturb her. He went and extinguished the few remaining candles before coming back to the right side of the bed again. Pulling the blanket away from her shoulder, he noted the small red stain there on the bandage. Her wound still bled some but thankfully it didn't appear that it had worsened. Now that she was asleep again he knew that it would stop with her inactivity. Satisfied with that fact he gently tucked the blanks back around her.

Brushing his fingers along her forehead Raistlin felt again for the dreaded beginnings of a fever. She was warm but she still wasn't feverish and he hoped that she'd stay that way.

So lost in his thinking about the list of herbs he would combine to make the things he'd need to give her to prevent infection that Raistlin didn't realize that his hand still lingered on her skin. The back of his curled fingers played along her flesh at the edge of her soft hair.

Yurielle unconsciously nuzzled into his touch, mumbling something in her sleep as she did.

Raistlin froze, every muscle locked at her drug filled words.

It sounded like she had said, “I'll be your light Raist...”

 

***

 

Consciousness returned along with a renewed wave of pain. Yurielle groaned and gasped when she tried to move. Her upper torso was bound tightly and the right side of her body was both numb and on fire.

Just then a figure came through her door.

Raistlin entered, balancing a large tray loaded with medicine and new bandages, his golden trimmed robes rustling softly as he moved to the small table that sat in her room.

Dalamar entered behind the archmage and was the first to notice that she was awake.

“Ah,” the elf met her eyes, “Looks like you're awake.” Setting his own tray down, one of food and drink, he bowed to his Shalafi. “Am I needed then? I think you can manage to manhandle her by yourself.” The elf didn't wait for his master's reply; he merely bowed again and left to get away from the other mage's cold glare.

Raistlin stood still as a shadow, glowering at the doorway for several seconds before he finally turned to regard Yurielle. “How are you feeling?”

“Hurts...” she croaked, wincing as she moved slightly.

He came over to her side and carefully assisted her to sit up, adjusting the pillows behind her better so that they supported her new position. “I have more medication for you. But I think it best you eat something first.”

The thought of food made her turn green, “I don't think I can...” but her ever complaining stomach gave a growl. “Don't listen to that,” she said through clenched teeth. “I think if I eat anything I'll just be sick.”

“Try,” he said gently as he smoothed the wild tangle of her hair flatter against her scalp with a golden hand. “I can bring the tray over if you don't feel like you can walk yet.”

Yurielle rubbed her eyes with a sad groan, trying very hard not to be swept under by the pain and sickness she felt rolling around in her gut. She heard shuffling and glanced up; he had left her side and was bringing the tray over to her.

“What exactly are you experiencing?” he asked, setting the tray with a small dish of berries and a bowl of broth soup next to her on the bed.

“Everything... hurts,” she said, holding her head. “I feel dizzy.”

“Some food will probably help with that,” he commented. “Once you've eaten a bit, I'll change your bandage and we'll ice your shoulder. That should help with the swelling... unless you want me to get you to a cleric,” he offered again as he tucked more stray hairs behind her ear. Her hair was a helpless mess and continued to come lose no matter how much he tried to smooth it away from her face. He needed to remember to bring back a hairbrush the next time he stepped out.

Some of their last conversation came back to Yurielle's drugged filled brain as Raistlin played with her hair. His touch was soothing and helped calm her through the nausea and pain, helping her to gather her thoughts and set them into a straighter order. Her memory was usually so picture perfect but these recollections were fragmented and blurry, remembered through the haze of drugs and pain. He had asked her the last time she remembered being awake and she considered it a moment as she raised one small berry into her mouth with a trembling hand.

“Yuri?” he asked when she didn't respond, finally giving up on her hair.

Oh yes... there was that conversation as well. Yurielle remembered it now, her pale cheeks tinting pink just a fraction. She slowly chewed the little berry, turning it into mush before swallowing it. It wasn't too terrible for her stomach so she went for another.

“As much as I want to say yes,” she finally replied once her mouth was empty. “I don't want to go back out there. And I don't want you or even Dalamar leaving until we know what we're up against. But I also don't want to be a burden...” her head turned to look down at her shoulder, there was a slight red stain that had soaked through the bandage.

“I don't know what you all remember from last night,” he said, pulling her from her thoughts. “But we can always use the...”

“NO,” she said flatly, cutting him off. “I remember. NO!” Her eyes went to his chest then. “Are you wearing it again?”

He shook his head and gestured to the bookshelf. From where she sat she could see the glint of silver on one of the shelves where the chain hung down, but from this distance she couldn't tell for certain if it was truly the Bloodstone of Fistandantilus. Her eyes were too hazy and unfocused right now to even detect the essence of it. She could only take his word for it.

“I can get you to a cleric Yurielle, I am not concerned about that,” he said confidently.

She shook her head wishing she shared his feelings on the matter. “You and I both know that few clerics will willingly heal a black robe,” she stated flatly. “Unless you take me to a dark cleric, but they're creepy. Besides,” she continued after popping a third berry into her mouth, “Nuitari is not happy with me right now... he will block any healing.”

Raistlin narrowed his eyes, “He wouldn't dare... he can't.”

“Yes he would,” she looked at him. “And he can for me... I belong to him because of the pact I made. He cares not for what happens to me. Even if some healing can be done, the sick sadistic bastard won't allow much,” her words were scathing as she spoke of their patron. “He'd rather see me in pain than instantly healed by the grace of any other god. So either way, my recovery will be nearly the same.” She ate two more berries now, Raistlin had been right, it was helping with her dizziness.

Scowling at their shared deity, Raistlin lifted a waterskin from the tray. Whispering a few words of magic, the outside of the skin began to frost over. Turning it as it froze, the sound of cracking ice filled the room as the archmage broke the ice into smaller pieces with his hands.

Raistlin then sat on the bed next to her as she picked at the berries and laid the cold and mostly frozen skin over the wrappings on her right shoulder blade. “This will help with some of the pain and swelling,” he explained as he then took a cord of string and gently wound it around her body in order to hold the waterskin in place.

Yurielle unconsciously held her breath as he wrapped the string around her ribs and back up, the movement brought him very close to her, well within that halo of warmth he gave off. And close enough she could smell the telltale scent of him, that of spices and herbs and of magic and power.

“There,” he stated once it was secured well enough. “We'll let that be while you eat. You should feel the cold soon; let me know if it gets to be too much.”

She nodded mechanically as he lifted the bowl of broth off the tray and held it out to her. “I figured you were hungry but sip slowly,” he instructed.

It took her a moment to be able to take the bowl in her one free hand. It was awkward but he assisted her until she managed. “Feel better?” he asked when she had finally drained the bowl. He had left her side while she drank and was going through the various supplies on the table but had returned to take the empty bowl from her.

“Yeah a little,” she nodded. “I... I could really use a trip to use the privy though...”

Raistlin nodded and, after helping to untangle her from the blankets, he assisted her to stand. She wobbled slightly on her feet and having her one arm trapped against her body put her off balance so that Yurielle fell awkwardly against him. Raistlin carefully steadied her and after a moment of making sure she could even stay on her feet, he guided her safely to the washroom door. Yurielle's eyes widened when he acted like he was going to follow her into the room beyond.

“I can manage Raistlin...” she felt herself blush when she realized he was meaning to come help her. “I have to learn to do this on my own anyway.”

He looked at her with a neutral expression on his face. “Yurielle, I have extensive experience with taking care of the ill and wounded. It's nothing that I have not done before,” he explained patently, “with both males and females.”

She blinked at him, registering this unexpected bit of information about his past. It came out of nowhere, but she quickly recovered. “I want to at least try first...”

Raistlin's eyes studied her face for a few heartbeats before he nodded and slowly stepped back from her. She felt his eyes on her as she unsteadily walked through the doorway, her left hand on the wall to help her balance, glancing over her good shoulder she reassured him, “I'll be fine Raistlin, if not I'll let you know.”

Nodding he shut the door behind her and Yurielle turned to the task at hand. The washroom wasn't very big but it was a long and narrow room. A large copper tub for bathing sat along the wall to her right under a small window that was letting in faint sunlight. Before her was a cabinet with vanity that held a basin for hand and face washing while on the far end, behind a half wall, was the privy.

It took her a while, but she managed to make it to the end of the room, the hardest part was pulling her leggings down far enough and getting seated without moving her shoulder too much. The ice had numbed the hurting some, but any extra bumping or movement sent a whole new wave of pain through her body. After several minutes she had relieved herself and managed to get her undergarments and pants back in order.

Returning to the vanity she took some time to splash some cold water on her face as she washed. The whole exertion had left her drained and sweaty. Looking at herself in the mirror she groaned, she looked like something you'd find in the gutter. Her face was pale and drawn in pain' dark circles marred the skin under her eyes and her hair... Gods her hair was a rat's nest! Only a small part of it was still braided while most of it had come lose and sprang wildly around her head in all directions.

Slowly she managed to undo the tie on the braid and ran her hands through the tangles. Yurielle swore under her breath as her fingers caught painfully on the multitude of snags. She really missed her hairbrush! But it was back at Wayreth with so many other personal items that she was forced to leave behind and, because of the attack yesterday, now her replacements were gone as well.

Yurielle felt tears sting her eyes and she fought them back down. She was sick of crying. Turning, she slowly made her way along the wall once more to the door. Opening it she found Raistlin just a few feet away, arms folded in front of him and tucked into his sleeves, a look of apprehension on his face.

“See?” she all but panted, “I survived.”

He eyed her but said nothing as he came back to her side and offered his arm for her to take to help with her balance. Yurielle took it gratefully; walking was easier when there was something for support. There wasn't anything for her to hold onto in the space between the washroom and her bed so she was happy for his assistance.

Sitting back down on the bed Yurielle was winded from the exertion of her little adventure, but she was proud of herself in proving that she could do it. She wasn't going to be invalid and cause more trouble for Raistlin than what he already had because of her.

One victory won.

“We'll change your wrappings today. I need to check the wounds and make sure they are no longer bleeding. You'll need to have your right arm restrained close to your body for at least a week or two while the bone begins mending. After that we can try a sling...” he was saying as he assisted her in getting back into bed.

Yurielle nodded numbly, she knew that it would take several weeks for her to heal, but not having use of her right arm was pretty disheartening. The thought made her twitch her fingers on her right hand where it rested bound against her chest. She then realized that there was a cloth between her arm and her torso. This brought back to the forefront of her mind of what the two men had done and probably seen. She also realized what was about to take place again as she watched Raistlin gather the wads of bandages, cloth and gauze.

“Here,” he said, holding out a small vial of thick chalky liquid. “Poppy syrup. I think you should take it before we get started. I'll be as careful as I can but this will most likely cause you pain. It's not as much as I gave you last night so I'm hoping it won't make you so loopy.”

She breathed in slowly and took the vial from him and quickly drank it before she could think herself out of it. Her stomach churned and she gagged, “ARGH Raistlin! That's foul...” she complained through her hand, her eyes watering.

He held out a glass of water and she took a large drink before he pulled it away and held up another vial.

Yurielle gave him a look of pure disgust, her face scrunched up tightly in rebellion.

“This will boost your body's ability to fight infection. I do not want your wound to go bad,” he explained. “I promise it'll taste better than the poppy syrup.”

“Okay...” she said hesitantly as she took the vial, her face slowly relaxing. She eyed it for a moment then drank it down as well.

“UGH!” she exclaimed. It didn't make her gag but the taste was still awful. Like grass and mold. “You're just getting back at me for my tincture aren't you?”

A tiny smirk played at his mouth, “Mayhaps.”

“Very funny,” she took the water glass from him once again and drained it. “Any more things you want to put in my mouth Majere before you strip me down?” As soon as she said it her face flushed deep red. Damn her and her habit of talking before thinking things through!

Raistlin's eyes had went wide for just a moment, it seemed as if his own skin flushed ever so slightly, causing his cheeks to darken. “I'm going to write that comment off as a side effect of the drugs...”

The woman involuntarily licked her lips and swallowed.

Raistlin had to turn away to focus on his supplies, going over each item one more time in his mind in an attempt to banish that image of her tongue on her mouth. This wasn't going as planned and they hadn't even begun.

Yurielle cleared her throat then and gave a nervous chuckle as she was beginning to feel the medication work. Raistlin knew he had to get this over with fast before she was overcome by it again. He had lessened the dose, but he didn't know how loopy it would still make her.

He turned to her, a sharp scissors was held in his hand as he watched her sway slightly on the bed. Apparently it still was going to be an issue as he watched her eyes lose their focus.

“Are you ready?” he asked, trying to ignore the blush creeping up the woman's face.

She nodded and he sat behind her on the edge of the bed and began by first cutting the strings that held the now thawed waterskin in place. Tossing that aside he gently gathered her hair away from her back and loosely tied it up so he could work without it getting in the way. He then found the end of the wrappings and cut the tie before slowly beginning to unwind the linens.

The gentle feel of his hands in her hair made Yurielle's skin prickle. When he began to unwind the linens, the movement again brought him close to her and she sat still as a statue as his arms lightly brushed up against her, his warm breath tickled on her shoulder and neck as he worked.

Raistlin busied himself with removing the wrappings from around Yurielle's body, trying very hard to ignore the bright shade of red that was creeping up her bare shoulders and neck. Soon her ears had even turned red. Telling himself over and over she was merely embarrassed for her modesty, he couldn't help but notice the way her breath faltered every time his hand brushed against her. Finally the last strip of cloth came loose and she sighed audibly as she was able to take a deep breath that was both painful and freeing.

“Are you alright Yurielle?” he asked softly from behind her, trying very hard to quash down the want to touch the flushed skin along her spine.

She just nodded and involuntarily moved her right arm, her whole body froze in agony and he heard a scream held back in her throat as she tried not to cry out.

“Be still! I'll do this as quickly as I can,” he ordered harshly, though it was aimed at himself more than her. Focusing now on her injury to distract himself from the tension that hummed between them, he carefully peeled back the gauze that had been packed against the incision he had created.

It wound was red and crusted with dried blood, the skin looked swollen and tight against the stitches. But it no longer bled. “I'm going to clean your skin and apply some numbing salve.”

Yurielle gave a stiff nod, trying very hard not to move as his warm fingers deftly tended to her. He caused no further pain as he cleaned the dried blood away and the smell of an herbal mixture filled the room as he very gently rubbed a thin layer of a cooling ointment around the wound. Nearly instantly the area began to numb and she couldn't hold back a sigh of relief as the feeling of it sank deep into the tissues. She swayed slightly and he steadied her, his hand on her good shoulder.

“Better?” he asked. After she had nodded once more he carefully applied a new thin layer of gauze. It stuck to the injury, the ointment holding it in place. “Are you covered? I will check the other side of the wound.”

“Yes...” she gave a breathy reply.

He shifted on the bed next to her, coming to sit along her side so that he faced her. Keeping his eyes on her shoulder he carefully peeled that gauze away and repeated the process. When he was finished he finally allowed himself to look at her face.

Her face was both pale and flushed, her eyes tight shut but it hadn't stopped tears from running down her cheeks. Her jaw was set hard and she was trying unsuccessfully to breathe normally. Involuntarily his eyes drifted down her face and neck to where her right arm was held tight against her chest, her wrist between the two mounds, her left hand was holding it there in place. The small towel that was covering her skin had slipped slightly to reveal the soft round curve of the tops of each breast against her ribs. He knew instantly that it hadn't been a good idea to look.

Raistlin gawked for only a moment before he forced his iron hard will to tear his eyes away and back up into her face. She was in pain. Guilt washed over him then. He let himself stare like a moon-eyed teenager while she suffered. Swallowing hard he said evenly in a clear voice, “Is your arm comfortable like that?”

Her eyes came open now and locked with his.

Raistlin froze, for a split second he didn't see pain there. There was a quick flash of yearning in her eyes but it slowly softened as the pain caught up to it, overwhelming her.

“Yuri?” he asked when she only gave a small whimper in reply. Raising a hand to cup the side of her face, his thumb wiped at her tears. “Does it hurt that much?” he asked softly.

She nodded and nuzzled into his hand.

“I'm nearly finished. Just a few more minutes,” he promised. “You can do this.”

“Okay...” she whispered and closed her eyes again.

The mage set to work then, taking larger strips of bandage, he wound it around her lower ribcage working up her chest as he went. Making sure the fabric cradled her right arm slightly like a sling. She removed her left hand and he wrapped the cloth under her far armpit and around. The wide cloth effectively covered her torso again but it wasn't as layered or thick as the previous bandage.

“Is that too tight?” he asked as he worked.

“No.”

He took the roll one last time so that it came up loosely around her front and over her right shoulder, covering the wounds. Reversing the cloth and folding it over itself he flipped it back over her shoulder and wound it around her once more, holding down the edges he had created before he secured it. Cutting away the excess he returned his attention to her. “I'm finished,” he said quietly.

She opened her eyes again and breathed slowly, relief on her face.

“I'm sorry that hurt,” he murmured as he untied her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders once more. “You were very brave Yurielle.”

She swayed slightly again, almost slumping forward.

Raistlin steadied her, “You need rest. Is the pain medication hitting you now?”

“Like a dragon...” she mumbled.

Carefully he got up and moved his supplies out of the way before helping her to lay back against the pillows. Once she seemed settled he drew the blankets back up over her.

The mage took the bandages and items back to the lone table in the room before returning to her side. She was watching him with heavy lidded eyes. Those indigo orbs were glassy as they observed him.

“You're doing my bad habit now,” he teased, meeting her stare.

She smirked dreamily, “So gentle...”

“Hmm?”

“Your hands... you're warm Raistlin. Ya know that? Soft hands...” her eyelids drooped lower and she sighed as she sank into the pillows.

“I gave you less medicine this time Yurielle. You must be a light weight...” he came to her side then and checked her forehead once more for fever.

Her eyes fluttered open at his touch. “Hi Raist!” she smiled eagerly up at him, her voice sounded excited to see him.

He couldn't help it, her childlike enthusiasm was adorable and despite himself, Raistlin smiled widely back at her. “Hi Yuri.”

Yurielle crinkled her nose at him, that endearing smirk on her face even as her eyes fought to stay open. She was very much being swept away by the medication Raistlin knew. But by the gods she was suddenly the most precious thing that he had ever seen.

“You should smile more...” she murmured. “You're handsome when you smile Raistlin. Pretty shiny soft Raistlin,” she was singsonging again.

“Nothing compared to you sweet Yurielle,” he assured her, his fingers moving her hair away from her face again. “Any other requests from me?” he asked lightly, something inside him enjoying her silly drug-induced talk. “Perhaps you want me to sprout wings and fly as long as I'm smiling?”

A tiny giggle sounded from her, “Oooo a flying Raistlin! You'd better teach me that spell,” she weakly pointed at him with her free hand. “Or I'll be so maa-AAD!!”

The archmage only shook his head, slightly amused at her but knowing she could not help it and was not herself.

Yurielle wanted to say more but she was being swept away by the medication so all thoughts slipped from her mind as her eyelids lowered and finally closed.

Raistlin stood over her for several minutes, letting her fall deeper into sleep before he attempted to leave her side, in fear his movement would wake her.

“A hairbrush...” she slurred suddenly right as he was about to move away. “Since you asked, I request a hairbrush... my hair looks like SHIT!”

He chuckled at the simple response, somehow not surprised that her silence was her trying to think through her drug haze. “As you wish Yurielle,” he leaned down towards her but hesitated as he drew near to study her face as sleep claimed her. He didn't want to move away until he was certain she was unconscious and he hadn't meant to bring his face so close to hers. But then, being unable to stop himself, he brushed his lips against her forehead knowing she would not know that he had done so. “Sleep now Yuri,” he whispered softly against her skin. “Dream your little dreams,” his lips brushed her flesh once more before he drew away from her and stepped back from the bedside.

Yurielle sighed heavily and finally sank into unconsciousness. She dreamed of being encased in golden silks, the feel of it against her skin was warm and comforting. Sometimes the caresses were painful, but it wasn't a pain from injury, rather it hurt knowing that it would soon stop. It hurt thinking it was forbidden or perhaps unwanted. The only thing she desired was to be cocooned in the warm gold and just fade away into darkness... why was that so hard to ask for?

For now she was content to simply let the silk touch her lightly as she dreamed this strange dream. Taking the pain along with the pleasure she held an hourglass to her chest as she floated off through the darkness. Golden grains of sand sank one by one into the blackness at the bottom of the hourglass, each golden star was lost in darkness. As she floated in the void the gold silk trailed behind her like wings as she flew through the cold glittering stars all around her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW! Again that was lengthy but I figured it wasn't worth making you wait for a second part that was pretty much the same as the first part!   
> Also drugged up Yurielle was super fun to write :D   
> I really wanted to explore Raistlin's caring side in this chapter. In the book Brothers in Arms it even mentions how diligent Raistlin is at taking care of the wounded soldiers after their battle at Hope's End and how eternally grateful those soldiers are. He left a lasting impression on many. Myself included.   
> Oh and for those that maybe haven't seen, I've posted my thoughts and ramblings on this fanfic! Here is the link for that so check it out if you want to! https://archiveofourown.org/works/17952665/chapters/42398492


	20. Cracks in the Hourglass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets see what's going on inside of Raistlin's head shall we?

Raistlin stayed with Yurielle for the rest of the afternoon, content to simply watch her sleep. As he did, the ever introspective archmage forced himself to examine the parts inside of him that he no longer recognized. For he decided that now was finally the time that he would analyze and try to sort through the tangle of feelings and thoughts that Yurielle stirred within him.

The unconscious woman lying in the bed next to the archmage was an anomaly for causing these things within him and as he spent more and more time with her, Raistlin began to realize that somehow she had wormed her way beneath his carefully built exterior. Somehow Yurielle had gotten beneath this hard wall and cold mask that he had spent years crafting around himself. His appearance was one that usually turned people away from him with just one look and his usually callous nature and off putting demeanor never failed to repel all others. But it seemed to have no effect on the woman beside him.

Somehow Raistlin Majere knew for a certainty that in only a matter of days, the woman known as Yurielle had caused cracks to form in his impenetrable armor. Not the golden armor his unconscious mind held around him to protect him from outside magic. This other armor was what he had been crafting around himself since childhood. It was the armor that he wore to protect himself from the outside world and the people in it. It was the armor that kept his own heart and mind safe from the cruelty and judgment of humanity.

It was what he used to keep others away and again, he reflected with a scowl, Yurielle seemed not to be effected by it.

The black robed mage was never one to enjoy the company of others, he hated being dependent on anyone. Growing up weak and sickly had forced him to accept the help of his bigger and stronger twin. That forced acceptance had chaffed the fiercely independent Raistlin from an early age. It had made him bitter and angry for much of his life and made him closed off to anyone else around him as well as resentful if he needed to rely on anyone.

So very early in his life, Raistlin had begun to push others away. Deflected their pity and condescending remarks back at them with his cynical nature. That was the beginnings of this armor, and he had shaped and crafted it throughout his life. If ever he had tried to make a friend or hope for closeness with another, he had always learned a harsh and damaging lesson. So the armor grew and thickened to the point that Raistlin Majere never truly let anyone near him. Even his twin had grown leery of him in the last days that they were together.

That was how Raistlin had wanted it.

But somehow, Yurielle had found a chink in his armor. Somehow the woman had grown to mean something to the archmage. And Raistlin was determined to find out what!

Raistlin knew that he didn't need other people for he was at the height of his independence and power. These past years without the constant companionship of his brother had given Raistlin the freedom to delve into his own pursuits and live his own life the way he wanted without interference. It was true the Raistlin had taken on an apprentice, but there again, it was only to further his own magical prowess. After the years of living in his twins shadow, of always being reliant on his strong arm, now no one stood in Raistlin's way. He had only his magic and grew stronger in the craft every day. This was all Raistlin required to sustain him, he knew this to be a fact and believed firmly in it.

However he could not deny that even as his magical ability grew, Raistlin knew that his body had remained stagnant. Weak and sickly, his health had never improved since taking his Test of High Sorcery nearly ten years ago. Ten years he had lived with this shattered body, barely able to breathe, unable to do the simplest tasks without severe exhaustion.

But, since meeting the woman next to him, Raistlin didn't feel so _frail_ anymore. Yurielle's tincture had indeed allowed his lungs to heal at least somewhat, for he breathed much easier and was subject to less coughing fits. He wasn't as weary all the time, finding that he didn't need to rest as often as he used to. Even casting his magic didn't drain him as badly as it once did. It seemed her theory had been right, if his lungs could heal, even the smallest amount from the damage he had suffered during his Test; then the shield around himself was not using up all of his energy that he needed just to function.

The very thought of how far he'd come in only a few months was something that still amazed Raistlin whenever he dwelt on it. Never one to be truly surprised by much, the archmage suddenly realized that Yurielle seemed to be a never ending source for things that he had never expected.

Especially when it came to what the woman was forcing him to experience after years of separation from humankind.

Gratitude was a new feeling inside of him now. He knew that he owed this new physical change to her. Somehow, against all odds, her mixture of herbs had helped ease and bring balance to Raistlin's body in ways he had never considered being possible. He was healthier overall, though still not robust, but Raistlin knew that he never would be. This was a simple fact of his existence. But now simple day to day activities were no longer debilitating to his health and Raistlin felt his own power grow as he was able to focus more on his art. He now shuddered to even think of returning to the state his body was in even just a few months ago.

His body had changed as a direct result of her intervention yes. But also, Raistlin came to realize that something inside of him had changed as well because of her.

And it wasn't his increasing magical power.

The archmage thought of the last two months that he had spent away from Yurielle. He remembered how he had sank very hard and very fast into that old bitter self that he always once was. He had become resentful and irritable after she had returned to Wayreth. The few days in her presence, of being able to see someone who did not rot, of her not looking upon him with pity, of being shown respect and kindness, had caused a great unraveling within the archmage.

 

Sometimes it terrified him that he had allowed this to happen. He had somehow let another person get into his head and under his armor without him consciously noticing until it seemed to be too late.

The damage was already done. Raistlin was not the same man that he was three months ago.

No, he knew that he was not even the same man he was three days ago. For in the instant that he had once again laid eyes upon her, all of the last two months had evaporated.

Raistlin truly had only known Yurielle for a few days at that point, and somehow it felt like his life had already shifted. Even now, he barely knew this woman next to him, but she held a power over him that he didn't understand.

A deep crease marred the golden skin between his eyes as he pondered this yet again. He had only given these things a fleeting glance those few nights ago within his study when he had brought her back to the Tower. But now, now he would solve this, now he would gain some understanding to this confounding riddle.

The archmage tilted his head to the side as he studied her. He could see her eyes twitch behind her eyelids as she dreamed her far away dreams. Raistlin idly wondered what she was dreaming even as his own thoughts raged inside of him, refusing to be ignored.

Was it merely the fact that she was the only thing of beauty that he could see that had brought about these changes within him? Was he so petty and shallow to be bamboozled by a pretty face?

For Yurielle was the only person in existence that his eyes didn't even begin to destroy in front of him. Certainly this made her special to him, for she was beautiful. Not even in a common type of way that he remembered most women to look like before his eyes were cursed.

Dark auburn hair fading to golden blonde, her heart shaped face with small dimples, those large liquid eyes the color of midnight and perfect mouth made for smiling... She had a unique beauty that he found very alluring.

Certainly seeing nothing but death had been both a blessing and a curse. Raistlin had found that without constant distractions of beauty, he could focus solely on his craft. However, he had come to realize that over the years he had begun to forget what beauty was and had started to loathe people. He avoided human interactions when at all possible, not caring to have to be forced to look at death and decay and in doing so he had grown apathetic to everyone around him. He couldn't even look at himself without seeing death and so the already withdrawn man had become isolated to the point of complete avoidance of any human interaction.

This was part of his armor he had carefully crafted around his being. If he pushed people away, he wouldn't have to watch them be ravaged by time.

Dalamar had helped ease some of the difficulty and despair brought on by Raistlin's cursed eyes. For the elf was young and aged very slowly in the archmage's gaze. But besides their magic, Raistlin had very little in common with the dark elf. He tolerated the others presence in the Tower because the elf was talented in magic as well as loyal to Raistlin. The dark elf wanted nothing more than knowledge and power; both the archmage gave him in exchange for his devotion and allegiance.

But Raistlin never truly found himself as drawn to elf the same as he found that he was to Yurielle. Though Raistlin couldn't deny that he was attracted to Dalamar, the golden skinned man wasn't completely without knowing or understanding this. The first few months with the dark elf, Raistlin had pondered something similar to what he was facing now. Though, now that he reflected, with Dalamar, it wasn't near as complicated nor tangled with more than just physical attraction.

The dark elf was beautiful, youthful, and powerful. This the archmage knew and understood well. But Raistlin had eventually dismissed any possible attractions to the other male in order to focus on his own continual rise in power.

Raistlin and Dalamar always had made an excellent team in their pursuit of magic and knowledge. So therefore nothing ever came of Raistlin's occasional speculative thoughts. Eventually those had faded, replaced by respect for the intelligent apprentice and the silent appreciation his presence offered in relieving the effects of the curse from Raistlin's eyes.

Dalamar was attractive yes. But Raistlin never STARED at Dalamar the way he just couldn't help with this woman. It was becoming an annoying habit and Raistlin tried his best to not do it, but no matter what, if she was near, his eyes were on her. This was never the case with the dark elf.

For with Yurielle, Raistlin suddenly had a focal point in his universe, one shining spot of loveliness. One that Raistlin also knew that he was also attracted to, in far more ways than he ever was to Dalamar.

Was all that he wanted something truly as superficial as beauty?

No. Beauty wasn't what he wanted.

Raistlin knew that if he had desired to surround himself with beauty, he would have been able to find some alternatives if that had been his wish. He was rich and had vast influence within this city and the surrounding area. He could have filled his tower with elves if all he had wanted was to look at those that did not decay in his eyes. That had not been the case however and the archmage cringed internally at the very thought of it.

He knew that beauty was not necessary for him to function nor did he ever feel the need for physical companionship and so, he continued on his life in the same manner he always had. Set apart and alone, closed off from the world around him. Even with a possible companion beside in in the form of his apprentice, Raistlin had quickly overcome any desire to even think about it.

Such things were not worth his time.

Raistlin shifted in the high backed chair within her room and rested his head back against the head rest and closed his eyes for a few moments. He had only let himself sleep for an hour or so during the day and was still exhausted because of it. Perhaps this was why these thoughts refused to leave him alone. Even though he wanted to sort through them, he also felt that these never ending questions were also not worth his time.

What was the point in it all? With a frustrated sigh he rubbed his eyes before opening them. And like someone with an addiction, his eyes fell on Yurielle's face once more.

The archmage knew that he had become distracted by her. His plans at godhood had fallen aside. Raistlin had never once been distracted by Dalamar or any other elf for that matter. He had never let these thoughts catch him off guard when around his apprentice.

Raistlin knew that he had never found himself dreaming about Dalamar, never found himself pleasuring himself to thoughts of the dark elf.

Only Yurielle did this to him.

Now that his focus had shifted to ridding himself of Fistandantilus' essence, Raistlin told himself that godhood was next on the list.

But as he stared at her sleeping face, the back of his mind prickled.

Is that what he still wanted?

What else could mortal life offer him? Did he _need_ physical companionship more than he realized? The thought made his face harden into his usual scowl. There was no place for such useless nonsense in his life!

His magic was what he had lived his life for up until now... any other thought seemed alien and not his own. Where were these thoughts coming from? He doubted very much that Fistandantilus would find himself daydreaming about the woman in ways that were normal or even tender. Ordinary thoughts of sitting by the fire reading with her, of having deep philosophical discussions about topics that few would be interested in and exploring her magical abilities.

Thoughts of touching that soft freckled skin... of playing with her hair... kissing that mouth...

No! His eyes shot open, he had started to drift off. He shook his head to try to clear the irritating images. Those were weak, silly fantasies of a enamored mind! Raistlin berated himself for even entertaining those thoughts. He was stronger than this!

Those situations were not meant for him, they would never come to pass. Thinking about them was useless and would only deepen the inevitable hurt when it would all be ripped away. More than likely by his own hands. No one, not even his own flesh and blood twin whom he had shared a womb with, had ever gotten close to Raistlin. And that was the way the archmage preferred it.

Raistlin Majere was alone, always had been and always would be. Such was his life. It was part of what he had given up for his magic. He had learned early to never hope for love or gentleness. Such things were not for him to have or experience. They were emotions and moments reserved for simple people, those with simple minds and lesser ambitions.

They were meant for people like his twin.

Those with hearts and good souls.

Raistlin Majere knew deeply that he had neither.

There was that empty and never ending gnawing in his chest again as he once again accepted this. It began to stir in times like this and seemed to be attempting to smother him. He knew that this was was the dark pit that he filled with his magic and his ambitions. There was no room for anything else. This feeling was what he would endure for his own power.

Though... when he was with HER that echoing void would still, even if just for a moment.

 _'Vexing, weak, useless thoughts!'_ he glowered to himself.

 _'Besides young mage... you have me!_ ' that dark voice slithered into his unprotected mind.

Raistlin sighed and closed his eyes. Ice filled his veins for he had let his guard down for just a moment while thinking about Yurielle. Of course Fistandantilus was there, he was _always_ there. The lich's will and desires flooded him then.

Thoughts of endless power, of ascending to godhood, of holding the world in his hands and shaping it into one that was his own. He would have all the admiration and love that he would ever require from his subjects and worshipers that would come flocking to him and his power...

“No!” Raistlin slammed down the lich's intrusion into his being. Those thoughts for once seemed very unappealing to him. “You are but a shadow... a weak pathetic shade who is nothing without _me_!” his voice was low, menacing as he shoved the archlich deep under layers of mental protection. Locking the creature away and silencing him. _'Your days of existence are numbered. Once you are gone, there will be nothing to stand in_ MY _way...'_ Raistlin thought vehemently.

 _'There is her...'_ those final words whispered back at him as the archlich was banished to the darkest corners of Raistlin's being. The words echoed in his mind, reverberated through his soul.

Opening his eyes again Raistlin took in Yurielle's resting face.

Yes there was her.

As he looked at her, he realized yet again just how much he had forgotten what true beauty was over his decade long curse. Elves could still be beautiful yes but even they faded to his eyes. Even if their faces took much longer to wither, the color of them would still wash out to shades of gray. Their skin would still lose its vibrant tint of life, their hair would dull into shades of pale colors, their eyes would still lose their luster. Even Dalamar, with his raven black hair and dark brown eyes, would fade to monotone shades of black and white. So even if he did offer some respite from the curse, eventually the reminder of death would always arrive.

Not so with Yurielle. Even sick and injured, her hair and skin was vibrant and awarded Raistlin with colors he had long ago forgotten. Red was suddenly his favorite even though he could not recall if he once ever had a preferred color. But now Raistlin found that he enjoyed red the most since he could see it now in her hair and how her skin would flush so hotly when embarrassed or flustered. Even the small colored freckles against her skin held that faint color of fire and he found himself tracing small patterns amongst the dots with his eyes.

Black gods he was acting like an imbecile! He scolded himself and tore his eyes away from her to rest on the fire. She was beautiful yes, but what of it!? He could admire her from afar without acting like some silly farm boy!

Then was it true? Was he no better than his addled brain twin when it came to a pretty face? Disgusted at the thought, Raistlin sat back in the chair. Closing his eyes again he covered them with his hand for good measure as to not give into the temptation of looking at her while he sorted through this tangle of irritation.

Raistlin's logical brain kept telling him that yes he enjoyed her company. How could he not? Yurielle was intelligent and her strange wild magic was intriguing to his ever inquisitive mind. Her hunger for knowledge and the understanding of magic rivaled his own in many respects. Yurielle was ambitious in her own way, as well as brave and determined, if not sometimes reckless and stubborn. But the archmage admired those qualities within her, could relate to them. For she was like him in more ways than not. There was a kinship there, something that Raistlin had always secretly craved in another person.

The archmage had long ago resigned himself to the fact that there simply was no one else even close to his level of being. But yet, here she was, this bright little star that the god of the black moon tried in vain to harness.

This woman was special to him because of this as well. Yurielle was different, unique and powerful in ways that he couldn't even wrap his head around yet. She herself was misunderstood and feared because of the magic that she possessed.

Just as he was. Therefore again, she was more like him than not.

So no, it was more than simply the fact that he could see her face that he was acting like this. He wasn't just being hoodwinked by a pretty face like his simpleton of a twin. There indeed did seem to be something deeper that Raistlin was drawn to within this woman. She had magic, was intelligent, quick witted and strange. She was so very similar to what he remembered he was so very long ago before this taint had taken hold of his own soul.

So yes, Raistlin nodded to himself in acceptance as he thought. Yurielle was indeed like Raistlin in more ways than Dalamar, or any other person that Raistlin had ever met, could ever be. Her beauty was just a boon to him.

The archmage let out a long, slow breath that he didn't realize he had been holding.

Yurielle was beautiful yes, but he understood that he didn't need beauty to survive. She was a person that he could relate to, someone he had found common ground in. There was a recognition between two people with like minds and interests. So yes, Raistlin supposed that these reasons could be what had brought about such an abrupt change within him.

However, there was more. More thoughts writhed within him, more doubts and more questions.

First of all there was the fact that she stilled the ache within his chest that sometimes seemed to suffocate him. How did she do this? How could she fill this empty pit that even his magic that he poured into it could not ease?

Then it dawned on him. Emotions are what she was also reminding the archmage of. She occasionally made him smile and laugh. Raistlin found that he felt happy when he saw her look at him. But happiness was a fleeting lie and Raistlin knew that it always passed eventually. Such warm feelings had to, for they had no place in his life, and so he would bury them deep under a layer of detachment and distance.

His usual mechanism for dealing with such things. For Raistlin knew that he deserved nothing else.

Her presence and what she did to him was exactly what was the most galling in this point in time. The crease deepened between his eyes as he pondered, was this a blessing or a curse in itself? The fact that she was here now during this time in his life when he had so many ambitious plans he was about to set in order. She would be useful to him in his pursuits and nothing more.

Then he had to ask himself, once he achieved what he wanted, would he then be able to discard her? Would he discard her the same as he had with everyone else?

His childhood companions, even his own twin, they had all be cast aside by the archmage. All connections to his past, Raistlin had severed to further his own ends. He had done so without flinching and would do so again in a heartbeat. But could he do that with her once he had rid himself of Fistandantilus?

Right now the thought chaffed more than it had with any other person, but it would come to pass eventually and Raistlin knew it. No matter what thoughts he wrestled with inside himself right now, Raistlin owed it to her not to let the same fate fall upon her. She was too good and too pure for his life. The light she gave off could never penetrate the taint upon the archmage's soul.

This Raistlin knew.

He didn't need her for anything other than her strange magic. She would help him be rid of Fistandantilus and then he would turn her away and return to his life of blessed solitude in the dark.

These other desires were fleeting things and he would overcome them as well.

He prided himself on his mastery of his own emotions and urges. The fact that this weird little girl with wild magic had appeared in his life at this time was surly the gods mocking him as he had first thought. Then again, Astinus himself had said that the timeline had shifted. Still the archmage had no idea what this could mean or even why the Chronicler of Time had thought it important to come tell him that. He had done so right after meeting this woman...

There was something vastly unsettling about this fact that made Raistlin uneasy. That fear and uncertainty reared up in him then. He should just get up and walk out of the door right now. Should just leave and remove himself from the thing that was causing him such confusion within his own being.

Raistlin, of course, did no such thing as his eyes slowly drifted back to rest on her.

Perhaps she was here to help him, perhaps to destroy him. Right now, both paths seemed viable to the archmage. Raistlin knew that he shouldn't be giving so much thought to this, that he wouldn't let her get that deep inside of him. He tried to tell himself that none of this really mattered in the grand scheme of his affairs.

But... when Dalamar had messaged him that he and Yurielle were under attack, it was everything Raistlin could do to keep calm and collected.

Why had he felt that way? Why did he drop everything he had been working on and instantly transport himself to them with a fury and wrath he hadn't felt before? Was it merely the reality that his one thing of beauty was in danger or were these fleeting desires and emotions actually running deeper than Raistlin thought possible? If he was to truly just use her and discard her later, why was he suddenly terrified in ways he had never been before?

He forced himself to recall what he felt in that moment. Dread, ice cold dread in the pit of his stomach was the first feeling that soon exploded into a possessive rage so clear and sharp that his magic had responded to him more willing than he could ever recall it doing.

But why... why over this silly woman?

There were things about Yurielle that in anyone else he knew he would quickly become annoyed by. Her teasing manner and her childlike attitude were things he knew would probably have worn thin a long time ago. But somehow with her it was refreshing, as if being able to see her made her actions all the more endearing to him. He felt like he should be irritated with her when she acted silly or when she bossed him around. But instead Raistlin often felt taken aback by her quick wit and sharp tongue, by her bubbly and erratic personality. Her simple logic and views on the world always gave him pause when he knew that with anyone else, he would have dismissed them.

Suddenly Tasslehoff came to mind. The irrepressible kender that Raistlin had known nearly his whole life. The sudden thought of the two of them meeting filled his thoughts and he nearly chuckled at the absurdity of it. Raistlin knew the two would hit it off, Yurielle was just as irrepressible as any kender. A tiny part of him started to play through the encounter... of him being in Solace again, sitting under one of the great vallenwood trees. The sun shining down through the leaves, playing in her hair as she danced.

He knew that Tasslehoff would like her, Caramon would like her too.

Raistlin started awake as his arm dropped away from him and pulling him from his dream. He had fallen asleep in the chair again. Rubbing his eyes, Raistlin sighed in irritation. Ever since meeting Yurielle, thoughts of his former life, of people he had once known and of his twin, had regularly been on his mind. Could it be possible that he missed them?

He scoffed to himself and ran a lean hand through his hair and rubbed his stiff neck to ease the cramps. Raistlin knew that he didn't need the people from his past but more than that, he knew that THEY were better off without him. The archmage was doing them a favor by removing himself from their lives.

Shifting in the chair once more, he made a mental note to find a more comfortable one to bring in here. This ancient relic was not very comfortable for brooding in!

After getting comfortable once more, Raistlin's mind then went back to Yurielle's poppy induced ramblings. There was something about her innocent mannerisms and words that had pierced deeper than anything else she had ever done. Raistlin tried to tell himself it was all a meaningless side effect of the medication. Yurielle was not in her right mind in those moments and anything she said or did should not have any bearing on his thoughts.

But the image of her smiling up at him, so very happy to see him, had flayed him open in ways he had never expected. The way she caressed his skin as her eyes could do nothing else but focus on the magic there, the way she spoke of him as anything other than this despicable creature of evil was something he could not get out of his head.

Suddenly Raistlin had his answer of why he had reacted to news of her attack the way he had. He he had been terrified of losing her. The more he thought of this fact, the more Raistlin could not doubt or rationalize it away. The very thought of the Conclave taking her back had sent him into a fury. So great was his rage that he had surprised even himself at what he had done when he had materialized from the teleportation circle.

Yes she had indeed wormed her way into the cracks that she had created within his armor. Yurielle was inside of him now and Raistlin had no idea how to reverse the damage that she had caused. Sighing, the archmage ran a hand through his hair again in utter frustration as his thoughts tangled around in his head.

In that moment Raistlin understood just how deeply that he was attracted to her, not only mentally and physically, but these new strange emotions were also tangled within her presence.

Then his next question came unbidden into his thoughts. Was she just here to remind him about his humanity? Was she here to test his resolve when it came to desires of the flesh and the innate need to connect to another?

Raistlin was ashamed to admit, even if it was only to himself, how quickly after meeting Yurielle that her image had invaded even his secret thoughts, few as they were. That night in her room within the inn when he had seen her silhouette against the fire had undone years of his iron hard control over himself. After that moment in time Raistlin had very quickly been reminded that he was a mortal man, with mortal needs and wants.

For years he had let those needs wither away, buried them deep beneath his will. Raistlin had viewed them as a weakness, a distraction that he didn't need while pursuing his quest for power. Through these years, his magic was the only pleasure that he had ever required. The magic was his lover, his life and his purpose. But now when he was with her, when she spoke and when she sang, the magic in his veins would flow more strongly than it had ever done. As if she somehow amplified it.

When they would brush hands or touch, when their lips had connected, his blood would surge in ways that had nothing to do with magic. It was a whole new feeling, something he found he could not bury down as if BOTH the magic and his own body wanted more from her. He found that he could not ignore that he _wanted_ her in ways that a man could claim a woman.

For years Raistlin Majere had elevated himself above such petty and base emotions. Physical contact and warmth were just ways to further what he wanted. If such occasions arose where he needed to use them, he was loathed to do so. But when it came to Yurielle, such things flowed freely from him, for he felt himself craving her. He wanted her to touch him and he wanted to touch her in return. He wanted to see her smile, wanted to be around her... Raistlin enjoyed speaking with her and learning about her. He could not lie to himself; he had found that he enjoyed connecting with her...

Raistlin then nearly reached out then to run a hand over her skin but he forced himself to stop and sit back once again. His hands clenched tightly to the armrests of the chair so that he would not give in to the temptation.

Damn her beauty and damn her personality! She had no right to come into his life and do this to him! Make him fight these infuriating urges that plagued lesser men with far less resolve than himself. Make him want to connect with another person and become vulnerable to the power of another.

Suddenly he wished that he could NOT see her. Perhaps he would be able to better dismiss this physical attraction to her if she were just a mummified husk same as everyone else.

Why was she of all the people that he had ever beheld since his Test, why was she the only one he could see? He tried to tell himself it was her wild magic. Something about how her magic worked... the fact that she was of two kinds of magic, surely that is what nullified his curse.

But did it all truly matter?

Would having his wish of not being able to see her really make him be able to overcome his struggles? Somehow, Raistlin wasn't so sure.

Would he be faced with these same questions if she had rotten before his gaze like everyone else? Would he be struggling with this if she was just a corpse to him? Would her words still strike as deep inside of him?

Yes. Yes they would.

That was the only answer that whispered back at him from deep within his being. It was not the voice of the archlich for once.

Yes he knew he would still struggle with these thoughts and feelings. It wasn't just her personality, mind, and body that he enjoyed being around... Raistlin suddenly grew very still when he realized that Yurielle was a kindred soul. It was something that was so deeply understood within him that Raistlin felt it in his very core once he realized it.

Yurielle was his equal. She was cut from the same cloth as him. Only she was the side that everyone saw while he was the side beneath the weave. The part kept in shadows that was not as pleasing to the eye as she.

Raistlin had come full circle within himself now.

A similar soul, a person of like mind, one that also lived and breathed the same magic that he had dedicated his life to. Yurielle was a worthy companion. No one, even his twin, had ever come close to the same level that Raistlin held himself up on. He had long given up hope of ever finding someone he even consider an equal.

But yet, here she was.

And now that she was here, Raistlin Majere had no idea what to do...

He could feel Fistandantilus coil and writhe within his mind, trying in vain to twist his thoughts. Raistlin hated that this undead creature that shared its existence with him. Soon he would be rid of the parasite and be free. Soon his body and mind would be his own once more. And then finally he would bring forth his plans... whatever those inevitably would be.

Raistlin sighed heavily as on and on his mind worked while he sat in the high backed chair next to Yurielle's bed while she slept. His eyes were yet again on her still face, watching her as she dreamed her secret dreams. But now he felt as if he finally had a grasp on what was going on within him.

The black robed archmage shook his head at these unexpected changes within himself. He knew that he had two choices before him. One; close himself off and ignore these festering thoughts. Cage them and bury them alongside everything else he'd set aside during his life.

Or; he could actually embrace this change. He could see where these thoughts and feelings led.

Would having someone such as her beside him be so bad? Would perhaps allowing himself to indulge in what all men found pleasure in be that detrimental to his power or ambitions? Would actually letting himself be vulnerable to another person be worth it? What could ever possibly come of such things?

Raistlin had no idea.

And that perhaps was the most terrifying thought of all.

Finally, after what must have been hours wasted on his never ending trail of musings, he stood and stretched his back that had long grown stiff before he made his way to the other side of the room. Dalamar had earlier brought in the parcels that he had been able to recover after the attack.

Raistlin began to unload them, feeling like he needed something to keep him busy and distracted from these questions plaguing his mind. From thinking about her drugged up silly words that struck a chord in him, from the memory of her soft warm flesh, the roundness of her curves and that look of nearly painful longing in her eyes... It was a look that he never thought he'd see in a woman's eyes, especially not when looking at him.

No woman had any right to look at him like that!

Aged beyond his years, with white hair and deeper lines than his thirty years should have etched on him, the archmage understood he was not worth such glances. Raistlin knew that he was many things, but attractive was not one of them. His golden skin and cursed eyes often brought looks of pity and fear. He was still weak; his shattered thin body was but a mockery of what a man should be.

Raistlin Majere was half of a person, a mind without a body. No one would ever want half of a man.

But then again... what if she _was_ attracted to him as well?

He froze then in his unpacking. For this was the final hurdle within his mind. This was the the final question that he needed to deal with.

For he knew without a doubt, that he could very well allow himself to give into her. He could very well hope for her companionship. But why would she ever feel the same way? How could she ever even begin to see him as he saw her?

There was no way in Raistlin's mind that any other being would want this sickly, weak, pathetic excuse for a man that he was. All of the power and magic in existence didn't make him anything other than himself. To even think she'd actually find him attractive was laughable.

If she was attracted to him it certainly wasn't a physical desire. Women were fickle creatures, this Raistlin knew. They often focused on other facets of something that caught their eye. More than once Raistlin had watched a woman hone her attentions on another aspect of her desires merely because she wanted to achieve something other than intimacy. Often this was some type of unattainable goal that the woman got into her head that she could change about a man.

Suddenly Raistlin realized, Yurielle was more than likely taken with him, not because of how alike they were, but rather, because of how opposite they were. He could see that capacity within the woman on the bed. She enjoyed her puzzles and unraveling secrets. Perhaps she felt as if she were on some grand personal crusade to save him.

He nearly laughed then as this dawned on him. Yes Yurielle very well may think he was redeemable from his path of darkness. But when it came down to it at the end of the day, she was merely enamored with the _idea_ of him.

But to actually _want_ him? It was ludicrous!

And so, everything that Raistlin had just wrestled with inside of himself was all stowed away into a dark corner. It was all suddenly so pointless and meaningless. None of it was worth his time now that he had convinced himself that on some level, Yurielle was just fascinated and drawn to him because of their differences.

So what if she was a kindred soul worthy to stand beside him? All of it would be for naught once she found out that Raistlin was indeed as hideous as he thought himself to be.

And, more to the point, there was his grotesque weak body that tired at the most basic of exertions, how could he possibly even think he ever be able to enjoy pleasures of the flesh without making a terrible fool of himself?

Sneering to himself at the absurdity of how jumbled his thoughts had become once again, Raistlin returned to the task at hand and continued to unpack the first parcel. He let his mind grow still and let that aching gnawing sensation fill him and pushed away all other thoughts and feelings.

As he worked at unloading her things, Raistlin Majere decided then and there that he would find a way to reinforce the cracks that she had made within his emotional armor. There had to be some way to purge this weakness from him.

But, too weary and annoyed with himself, Raistlin simply resigned his being to the numbness within. It didn't matter that she was a kindred soul. It didn't matter that he wanted her physically nor that he found her an equal in ways he had never found anyone else.

Raistlin knew that he didn't need any of that. He had lived his life this long by relying on himself. He was the only force in the universe he could ever truly rely on. There could come a day when his own magic would fail him but even then, Raistlin Majere would stand alone against the rest of the world as he had always done.

So he resolved that he would find a way to repair his armor, would find a way to reforge it. There had to be a way to repel the irrepressible force that was Yurielle from his being.

But in this moment, he would just let the cracks remain in his armor.

He would let her remain where she was inside of him, for he was to exhausted to deal with it.

For now.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I wrestled with this chapter a lot. But I feel like it was important that we take a peek at what is going on inside of Raistlin through all of this. He's kind of a mess isn't he?  
> As a side note I have added a chapter in my Discussions on The Star and The Hourglass and have attempted in my own way to delved into my views of Raistlin and his personality and how he views himself. If you are interested this is the link to that chapter= https://archiveofourown.org/works/17952665/chapters/42398492  
> Thanks again for reading everyone!  
> Also - it was bound to happen at some point. I accidentally uploaded this to my other fanfic >_< it took me a bit to realize my error! It's in it's proper place now!


	21. Fragile

Raistlin Majere had spent the entire day within Yurielle's room watching over her as he wrestled with thoughts and emotions he never thought that he'd have to face. He was extremely unnerved by the apparent speed and depth at which she had gotten to him. This seemed to annoy the archmage the most because it meant that he had become weak.

Or, it meant that he had been weak all along...

Raistlin refused to think about the matter any further as he unpacked the smashed and crumbled parcels and bags that were full of Yurielle's new possessions. As he did, he reflected on the fact that these inanimate items had almost cost her life and freedom.

The archmage unloaded paper, ink wells, quills and new charcoal writing sticks from the first parcel that was the most smashed and damaged. Despite how bad the package appeared, everything within it had somehow survived. The next bag contained many smaller paper bags; each labeled and filled with various herbs. By the looks of it, she had bought every single herb on Ansalon and then some. He recognized the vast majority but was surprised that there was a handful he had no knowledge of as he glanced through the names quickly written across the surfaces.

There were so many! For by his estimate there were well over a hundred of the tiny bags and pouches. Setting them aside in a small box on an empty shelf he figured that was a project for her to sort through once she was well enough to do so.

The next parcel was stuffed with many small bottles. Several were cracked or broken but most seemed to have survived being tossed aside during the attack. Carefully Raistlin lifted out the unbroken ones as quietly as he could. Checking occasionally that she slept undisturbed, not being bothered by the few tiny clinks or rattle of broken glass if one came loose in the box. Taking the unbroken ones, he lined a shelf with them, filling it.

That done he glanced through a few more bags and found one filled with yards of black fabric and spools of thread and small tins of needles. Another bag contained other clothing items to replace what she left behind. A few plain shirts of various colors, a couple skirts, a simple dress or two along with some pants as well as underclothes and linen shifts. Quietly he hung the items in the room's wardrobe and put the other items in the drawers below it.

At that moment the door to the room gave a small click as Dalamar opened it and entered carrying a tray of food. “You haven't eaten in a while Shalafi,” he said quietly with a bow. The elves eyes darted to the sleeping woman on the bed. “How is she?”

“In pain,” Raistlin replied darkly as he came to the table where his apprentice placed the tray. “But she seems to be resting comfortably for now.”

Dalamar 's eyes were now on his master, “You need rest yourself. If you wish, I can watch over her.”

“No,” Raistlin looked at his apprentice harshly, that one word held a deep finality.

“The next few days will prove how difficult her recovery shall be if the wound sours,” Dalamar tried a new tactic. For this had not been the first time he had tried to get the archmage to go sleep. “You will need your rest for such a battle.”

The two stared at one another in silence.

“I will not harm her,” the dark elf said calmly in a soft voice. “I did not betray her, nor you, to the Conclave if that is what you are thinking. Nor will I... this I swear.”

The coil of anxiety over questioning if his apprentice had betrayed him unraveled inside of Raistlin at the others words. His eyes were tired then as they fell on Yurielle for a moment before turning back to his apprentice. “Not just yet,” he stated. “You may go Dalamar.”

The elf hesitated, his dark eyes were sympathetic, “Very well Shalafi. I will be in the laboratory finishing my study of the bolt.”

“You still have suspicions?” Raistlin asked quietly. All of his anger at the dark elf was now gone and he allowed himself to fall back into their usual air of professionalism.

“Yes,” the elf scowled. “Those cowards sank so low as to use a crossbow... there can be only one reason for it. I shall let you know if I find anything conclusive,” he stated in a low voice. Dalamar studied Raistlin's face for several moments. He saw the exhaustion on the young human's features and he again pressed the matter that he rest. “I will return in a while to take over your watch. You need to sleep as well Shalafi. She will think no less of you for resting, and far less of me if I let you become exhausted yourself. You are weary. I shall relieve you to go sleep in your own bed, even if it's only for a few hours,” he finished before bowing, turning he left the room and closed the door behind himself before the archmage could put up an argument.

Raistlin stood beside the table, his eyes on the dark wood of the door.

“He's right you know...” Yurielle's soft voice floated to him a heartbeat later. “I'll be quite put out with you if you don't sleep Raistlin.” She was stirring now and rubbing her eyes sleepily.

Picking up the tray that the elf had brought, Raistlin brought it over to the bed. He didn't say anything as he laid it on the covers next to her.

“Are you jealous of him?” she asked as she struggled to sit up, wincing as she did.

“Of Dalamar?” he instinctively offered his assistance, helping her up off the elevated pillows with a hand on her good shoulder.

Yurielle nodded her thanks as well as answering his question and watched him as he poured them glasses of water. “He showed me the marks you gave him, the _curse_ you put on him. Those wounds will fester for the rest of his life...”

“Dalamar is a spy in my presence. He needed a reminder of who is Master in this Tower,” Raistlin replied coldly as he cut her a slice of bread.

“After you interrogated him about us,” she stated and frowned at the small plate of honeyed bread he presented her as if it were some kind of peace offering.

“Eat,” he commanded. “We don't need to talk about this now.”

“He was a girlish fascination Raistlin, something born from the life of a confused and lonely young woman. Nothing more! I had no friends and he seemed interested in me...” she insisted.

“Yurielle...” he tried to say but she kept right on talking, needing him to hear her side of the story. She really didn't have any idea what Dalamar had said to Raistlin about the matter.

“He taught me to kiss; I shoved my tongue down his throat a few times... He never hurt me, barely even touched me. Only humiliated me because he thought my crush on him was amusing. Do you want to hear about the other men who rejected me? The others I've kissed and tried to gain their affections? The ones who acted like I meant something or that the color I wear didn't matter or that I was normal but when...”

“Enough!” Raistlin said, his voice sharper than he meant for it to be.

Yurielle diverted her eyes, her skin flamed in embarrassment. She bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath. “I'm sorry...” she said quietly after a moment. “I'm afraid I woke up a bit cranky.”

Gently Raistlin took her chin in his hand, turning her face up to his, “Dalamar is a fool. The others, they were fools. Anyone who would hurt you in anyway, are _fools_!” he hissed the word. “No matter what color your robes are, or the strange magic you wield, they were fools for not seeing you. For they haven't the slightest comprehension of what kind of gift you are Yurielle...” he softly ran his thumb over her lower lip where she had bitten it, not even really thinking about what he was saying. The words were being pulled from his being, “Any man who catches your fancy would be among the most blessed... but even he would be a fool, for he would never be able to give you everything you deserve.”

Yurielle felt her eyes rim with tears at his words. The intensity in his eyes in that moment made her breathing catch in her throat. Like him, the words were pulled from her being. “And what of you Raistlin?” she whispered against his thumb. “Are you a fool?”

He snatched his hand away, as if her words against his skin had burnt him. After a moment of obvious surprise the shocked look on his face hardened, “I would be a fool to have this conversation with you right now,” he stated. His soft voice was low and held a slight edge to it now. “I would be no better than any of them to let you continue this line of thought when your world is in flames around you and you are dependent on me for help! You are physically, mentally, and emotionally compromised. So we will not talk about this now Yurielle!” he stated and turned away to return to his chair.

Cursing at himself, Raistlin was unable to meet her eyes any longer so instead he stubbornly watched the fire in the small hearth. His exhaustion was wearing on him and he knew it. He hadn't meant to say those things, hadn't meant for her words to cause him to snap. Rubbing his eyes, Raistlin tried to collect himself. He had spent the day questioning everything about this woman and in only a few moments, she had completely thrown him off kilter. Every conclusion he had reached suddenly felt so fragile now that she was awake and he was once again under her strange power.

Yurielle turned away from Raistlin as well and refused to look at him. His words had numbed her, but she indeed saw his wisdom. The archmage was right of course. She was letting her mind and emotions be clouded by circumstances. Yurielle was in pain and didn't feel well as she slowly nibbled at the bread in her hand.

Raistlin sat in the chair beside her; he had also begun eating his own share of bread and a plate of cooked vegetables that he grabbed off the tray.

The silence was tense and awkward as they both picked at their food petulantly. Both lost in their own glum thoughts.

“Fool or no... Dalamar is a good cook,” Yurielle stated a few moments later after eating a few of the vegetables on her own plate as she tried very hard to change the subject. The cooked carrots and beans were soft and lightly drizzled with a sweet sauce.

“He's an elf,” Raistlin replied gruffly, stabbing at the objects on his own plate with his fork.

“That's discriminatory Raistlin,” Yurielle tried to joke. “I'm sure there's at least one elf in existence that can't cook!”

The archmage didn't reply as he picked at his food in silence, brooding. These cracks within him seemed raw after his hours of endless musings and already he felt himself plummeting back into uncertainty with only one question from her. He scowled at himself, his face turning down into a frown; he indeed was weak if this was all it took.

Yurielle risked a peek over in Raistlin's direction but she found that his attention was fully withdrawn. His eyes were downcast and unfocused as he picked at his food without actually eating much. A look of annoyance and fatigue deepened the usual lines on his face. He looked extra cross today. Something else was bothering him and Yurielle feared to ask or even speculate. Instead her eyes then wandered the room as she slowly forced herself to eat her food. “Hey! My things!” she exclaimed when she noticed her bags gathered around the table a few feet away.

“Dalamar managed to grab most of it while we fled,” Raistlin explained, his fingers ripping apart his piece of bread. “Some things didn't make it or were destroyed.”

“Oh I hope my hairbrush survived!” she looked at the bags longingly.

“I have yet to find it. But there are a few more bags to look through yet.”

She turned back to him, “You were unpacking for me?”

Raistlin shrugged, “I needed something to do. It's not very exciting listening to you snore.”

“I don't snore any more than I kick in my sleep Raistlin Majere!” she scolded but his lame attempt at making a joke made her smile. “How long has it been since I was awake last?”

“About ten hours I think...” he replied after some consideration.

Yurielle groaned and rubbed her eyes with her one hand. “And you just sat there the whole time staring at me I suppose?”

“No,” he had to restrain himself not to snap the word when he spoke it. He wasn't about to tell her that she was right. “I also unpacked some of your bags.”

“Please tell me you at least slept some,” she looked at him then but he was ignoring her again as he picked at his food.

“Some,” he said finally.

“Raistlin,” she scolded gently. “I'm going to be fine. You can go rest in your study. I'm perfectly capable of messaging you if I need something. I'm a mage too remember?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily as he finally met her gaze. “I know. But the first few days are critical and the poppy makes you loopier than a kender on holiday. I stayed close by in case you needed something.”

Yurielle couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face. “A kender on holiday!” she laughed then hissed sharply when the movement made her twitch her shoulder wrong. Gently holding her bandaged arm with her left hand, she ignored his dark scowl at her pain. “You must be tired Raistlin because you just told two jokes in a row!”

“Those weren't jokes they were sarcasm,” he stated dryly. “And you need to be careful with how you move.”

“I know, I know,” she grumbled. “I can't help it that you're so damned funny.”

“This is exactly why I haven't left Yurielle,” he ignored her comment. “You could have woken up confused or rolled over wrong or any number of things could have happened.”

“I never thought you were such a worrier Raistlin,” she teased then tried to offer him a smile. “Thank you for staying. I appreciate it, I really do. But I just don't want to be a burden to you. I know you have more important things to do than sit with me all the time.”

Raistlin finished his food and stood, coming to her side he gently lay his hand over her bandaged shoulder. “You are not a burden Yurielle,” he stated, finally his eyes had lost all traces of whatever had been on his mind prior to her waking up. “So don't even think that you are,” he continued as he studied the bandage. Lifting the edge of the wrapping that was over her shoulder blade he changed the subject, “There's not much blood today. I think we can leave your bandage until tomorrow. Is your arm comfortable still?”

Yurielle slowly looked up into his face, being careful not to move to fast. “It's a little numb today. But I guess getting shot with a crossbow bolt would do that.”

He scoffed, “Indeed.” Idly his hand left her shoulder and went to move her hair away from her face by tucking it back behind her ear. “You hair does look like shit,” he stated. “I'll look for your hairbrush.”

“Thank you for the reminder,” she pouted as he left her side to retrieve his plate of half eaten food. Putting it on the table he picked up the last few bags and brought them over and placed them on the far end of her bed. “Do you remember which bag it was in?”

Yurielle shook her head, “We had combined several a few times. So it could be in any of those,” forgetting her pain, she leaned forward and gasped when she moved wrong.

Raistlin scowled. “I told you to be careful of how you move! I'll make you more ice for your shoulder. You eat,” he pointed a long finger at her. “Then we worry about your things.”

Yurielle nodded and returned to the food in front of her. She knew it tasted good, but she had no desire to eat. She only ate because she understood that she needed to keep her strength up.

As she worked on her food, Raistlin once again repeated the process with the waterskin, freezing it with a spell before placing it on her shoulder. Instead of wrapping it around her like last time, he settled in next to her on the bed and held it there himself.

“When did you help the sick and injured?” Yurielle asked quietly, her mind going back to that tiny bit from his past. She wanted to know more about him and was finding his usual silence suddenly held an awkward edge today that hadn't been there before.

“When I was young. While I was attending the magic school near Solace the plague hit the town,” he said, his voice going soft. “For a long while I had been learning from the local herbalist, trying to find anything that would help my cough and ease my breathing. She and I battled against the dying... tending to any and all.”

“I... I didn't know...”

“Not many do. And many that I had tried to help perished under my care. But I didn't try any less to make them comfortable in their last hours,” he said quietly. “Like my mother... I cared for her for days before she finally passed.”

“Your mother? Was... was it the plague?” she asked hesitantly.

“No,” he replied quietly. “My mother was _gifted_ with visions. She would often go into trances all throughout my childhood. Most would only last a few hours, a day or two at most. Her thoughts however were rarely with us. But,” he sighed, remembering the events again, “when my father died she went into a trance and never came out. She starved to death before my very eyes... faded to nothing.”

Yurielle turned and looked over her left shoulder at him, his face was unreadable but his eyes were far off as he recalled those days. “You were close? With your mother?”

Hourglass pupils met hers now, “...I suppose we were close. At least, closer than I was with anyone else when I was small... She would tell me stories of what she would see in her visions. Tales of far off places and of people that I had no knowledge of were my bedtime stories. So yes, I guess I was close to her before her trances got too bad, before other circumstances happened that turned her from me. But that is a different story.”

He shifted next to her, getting more comfortable on the bed. The act brought him closer to her as he stretched out a long leg so that it rested parallel to her. “I know it was she whom I received my magic from. I believe she would have been a mage if given the chance. She could have learned to harness her powers... but alas, they devoured her. Even after watching her spiral downward, unable to control herself, I could not resist the call of my own magic. So strong it was...”

Yurielle was still looking at him, trying to read his face. She could tell that there was a lot more to the story around his mother but she decided not to press it for now. “Your father? How did he....?” she let the unspoken word hang.

“He was a wood cutter. A tree fell on him,” Raistlin said simply, his voice devoid of all feeling.

“I'm sorry,” Yurielle whispered as his words sank in. He had lost both of his parents in a very short time from one another. “It's hard to lose your parents...”

“It was many years ago,” he stated. “Another life, another man.”

After a few minutes of silence he continued. “My brother and I were mercenaries for a few years after I took my Test. We needed the money, so we sold his sword and my magic in order to make our living. We saw many skirmishes and I became quite proficient in wound care when I helped in the surgical and sick tents. Swords and arrows can be messy, they lack the finality that a well-aimed spell can inflict.”

“Do you miss those days?” she asked, finishing the last of her bread. “Fighting along side your twin? Might and magic fighting side by side... it almost sounds like something out of a story.”

“Nothing near so fantastical,” he stated.

“Do you miss him?” she asked quietly. “I know you and your twin are estranged since the War...”

“NO.”

The word cut her off sharply. It was spoken suddenly and with such coldness that it made her jump.

Yurielle had heard stories of the Majere twins, everyone within any knowledgeable circles knew of all the Heroes of the Lance. It was well known that the two twins were night and day, the bigger man was gregarious and jolly, strong and handsome. Yurielle had never met Caramon Majere, but by all accounts he was a fine man to be around, someone that was kind and would befriend anyone easily.

Again she glanced at Raistlin out of the corner of her eye. She didn't know Caramon, but she knew the twin next to her. Or at least, she was beginning to get to know him.

Raistlin was cold and cynical, withdrawn and independent, more likely to flash you a scowl than a smile. The stories told about Raistlin were varied, but all of them were consistent in that the man was quiet and reclusive. Nearly all agreed that he turned to evil of his own free will, being the only one out of the original companions to fall into darkness. Many said that this was because he had already been evil and for this reason, he was considered by most to be a casualty among the thousands to the Dark Queens might. He had turned traitor to further his own ambitious nature while his twin had selflessly helped to save the world.

They were two opposite sides of the same coin.

The woman reflected that perhaps she hadn't known Raistlin for very long, but once again knew that he had shown her more sides of himself than he had to any other. She couldn't help but wonder why this was the case with her. Then it suddenly struck her.

Raistlin Majere was a part of a coin with his own twin, but he was more similar to her. Raistlin had lived a life of isolation, same as she. He had grown up with some semblance of a family yes, but no one had understood him. At least Yurielle was raised around magic users who understood what she had gone through as the magic grew within her. Raistlin had no such guidance and by all accounts had lived in a place where magic was mistrusted and ridiculed.

The Hourglass Mage suddenly seemed so very lonely to her and she had to look away from him before he saw the pained expression on her face. She didn't want him to think she pitied him. Far from it.

Yurielle could also sense that she had struck a nerve in the archmage with her question about his twin. If she were not in her current state she would press him more, ask him why he felt this way. In her mind she couldn't understand how one could be so separate from the other half of themselves. Even if the two men were so different, there had to be some common ground between them, some connection that existed.

Instead she simply said, “I will not pretend to understand why the two of you have such a relationship. But... I watched my own twin die Raistlin. I held her frozen body to mine. I would give anything to fill the void her death left in me.”

“Forgive me Yurielle,” he stated after a heavy silence, his voice had grown low and dark. “I mean no disrespect to you and your sister. But Caramon and I... our paths diverged long ago. He is not in my life because of my own choice. I no longer require him, and he is best to live his life without me. END of story.”

Chewing her bottom lip she nodded. Her heart constricted in her chest but she didn't have the strength to say anything else.

“Are you finished eating?” he asked after several more minutes of tense silence.

Yurielle nodded, any appetite she may have had was gone now, replaced with a sort of empty feeling inside of her as she felt again the loss of her own twin. She saw Raistlin's view on his separation from his brother, but Yurielle couldn't help but wonder how Caramon felt about the situation. She would not pity Raistlin, for she could understand where he was coming from, or at least she thought she did. Her pity instead was for Caramon, the lighthearted man with a shadow darker than the darkest night. One who couldn't possibly grasp what his twin lived with every day when it came to the call of magic.

Quietly Yurielle wiped her eyes wearily. Now was not the time to dwell on such things.

Raistlin eyed the remains of her food but didn't press it, she looked pale and he knew that the poppy syrup was going to make keeping food down difficult so he cleared the plates and tray away. “How is your pain right now?” he asked.

She shrugged slightly, careful not to move her right shoulder, “I guess not as bad as when I was awake last time.”

“Would you like more medication?”

“Is there nothing else but the poppy for pain?” she asked. “I know it can become addictive. I really don’t want to be dependent on the stuff Raistlin...”

“I will not let that happen,” he stated. “I'll wean you off of it well before then. But we can try adding some willow bark and cut back on the poppy syrup even further.”

She thought it through in her head and couldn't recall any side effects beside severe drowsiness. They seemed safe together and nothing serious would be long lasting. “Yes please.”

He came back to her side and felt her forehead again. His hand was gentle but it lacked the tenderness of before and his mouth turned down into a frown, “You feel warmer than I'd like. I'll prepare a stronger herbal mixture. Will you be alright if I leave you alone for a few minutes?”

“Yes,” she said. “But if you're worried, I'll tolerate Dalamar until you get back.”

His frown lines deepened but he sighed, “Very well. I will return shortly.”

She watched him make his way out the door, gathering up the Bloodstone of Fistandantilus off of the shelf, he gave her one last glance before leaving. It only took a few minutes before the elf appeared just as she expected.

Raistlin _was_ worried about her.

“So I've been summoned to babysit you,” Dalamar sighed dramatically. “How can I be of service to the Lady of the Tower?”

Yurielle snorted, “Can it Dalamar. I was going to insist on being alone but I need to pee and I don't want Raistlin trying to follow me again. So if you can be nice for five minutes and help me to the door, I can manage the rest just fine.”

He flashed his most charming smirk and came to her side, offering her his arm he carefully helped her to her feet. Steadying her with his hands on her good arm when she swayed, he cocked an eyebrow at her as his eyes studied her face.

“I can do it,” she gritted her teeth, she had moved wrong while getting off the bed and the wave of pain nearly made her swoon. Raistlin was right; she really had to be more careful with how she moved.

The dark elf assisted her to the washroom door and waited until she had finished. By the time she emerged again she was pale and exhausted from the effort. Her forehead was slick with a sheen of hot sweat.

Dalamar glared at her, “You're getting feverish,” he scowled.

“No... I'm just tired. Help me back to bed.”

When she was settled back in her covers Dalamar noted the bags on the beds surface. Yurielle followed his eye line, “Thank you for retrieving them,” she said quietly. “You didn't have to go back for anything.”

He shrugged, “The whole day would have been for nothing if we came back empty handed.”

“Still, I thank you Dalamar. Now dig through them and find my brush before I pull my hair out. Or you're letting me use yours you over-groomed peacock!”

He chuckled and opened the first bag. Inside was more rolls of various fabrics and sewing supplies. Unpacking them he set the items with the ones Raistlin had already found homes for. “I know our past was rocky Yurielle,” he was saying as he busied himself, “But I hope that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship between us.”

She cocked a smile at him, “Even if I ever do call you friend, I'm still going to henpeck you to death!”

He grinned back at her, “I'd have it no other way you shrew.”

At that moment the other man returned. Raistlin paused in the doorway, observing the two of them interact for a minute before entering. “Remove the trays when you leave,” he ordered. “We are finished eating.”

Dalamar inclined his head and did as his master requested. Gathering up the trays he paused beside Raistlin and whispered, “She used the washroom, but I fear she's getting feverish.” He stated then added lower so that only the other man could hear, “I suspect that the bolt was indeed poisoned.”

Raistlin's eyes widened a fraction at the elves statement and he then followed his apprentice through the door out onto the landing beyond, closing it slightly behind them so that they could speak privately, “You found something?”

The elf took a small step closer, “Yes, I just found a substance on it but wanted to look at her myself before telling you. I do not know what the substance is, but I fear whatever you try is in vain. Her fight is just beginning... and the Conclave is gathering against you even now.” The elf licked his lips and pressed on in hushed tones, “The specters you've sent outside have spotted unusual activity near the Grove. The arcane-hunter came back this evening with a hand. Someone is trying to get past your extra wards and make it to the Tower. Somehow they do not fear the power of the Grove.”

The hourglass eyes narrowed menacingly at this.

“They are counting on the fact that you will be distracted with her Shalafi. My own sources say they are planning something as we speak. We do not have time to wait for her to heal... and if I am right and they have indeed used a poison, I cannot say she will even survive this unless we solve what they used. Again we do not have time!”

“Your own sources?” Raistlin asked, his tone now as icy as his glare.

The dark elf did not bat an eye, “Yes Shalafi. I have certain contacts within Palanthas that I place my full trust in.”

“Such as?”

“Jenna of The Three Moons.”

Raistlin's eyes were like golden knives. “Justarius's own daughter. What game do you play behind my back apprentice?”

“None that endanger you Shalafi,” he bowed then. “This too I swear for this is a game I play for myself and does not concern you. The fact that she is daughter of Justarius is simply an unfortunate coincidence that only complicates things for me.”

Raistlin only glared at the dark elf, trying to read those almond shaped eyes and marble like face. The archmage had suspicions that his apprentice had someone within the city whom he was somehow involved with, for he knew that more than once the elf had left in the middle of the night to go out into Palanthas for his own reasons. One white eyebrow raised in sudden understanding.

“Jenna of The Three Moons is not your contact, she is your lover,” Raistlin stated bluntly.

The elf shrugged but said nothing else.

Raistlin shook his head, not surprised at all by this new revelation. He then tore his eyes from the elf to look through the crack in the doorway and into the room beyond.

Dalamar's eyes followed where his master's fell to woman on the bed, her head against the pillows. “I had a thought when you said Nuitari would not allow her to be healed...” he stated. “What of the plains people? You once knew a cleric of Mishakal... the Goddess of healing. No other god would dare to block her power.”

Raistlin regarded his apprentice with a grateful eye, he had not considered Goldmoon. It had been years since he had thought of the tribeswoman. He nodded to the elf then, just the smallest incline of appreciation. “If what you say is indeed true my apprentice... then woe to the Conclave,” his voice was like ice and made even the elf shiver with dread. “Return to your study of the substance that you found. Perhaps you will prove successful in figuring out what it is.”

Dalamar bowed lower then, “Inform me when you depart. I shall stay by her side until you return.”

Raistlin nodded and then indicated for Dalamar to leave. When he was alone, the archmage took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. If what Dalamar said was true... he shook his head to try to banish any dark thoughts. He quickly squashed the rising panic inside of himself.

The archmage was suddenly faced with the very possibility that Yurielle would still be taken from him. He had convinced himself that he would eventually be able to reach a point where he could discard her. But now, suddenly in the face of actually losing her, Raistlin felt ice cold dread fill his veins.

Raistlin Majere suddenly realized that he could not be without Yurielle. Not now, not even after he would be free of Fistandantilus. She had weakened him, and without her inside of him, the archmage felt as if he would collapse into nothingness himself. The very thought made him angry and resolute. As long as magic flowed in his veins, it would not happen. He would NOT lose her!

The Conclave were truly fools to underestimate him, to underestimate her. They thought that they had time to plan and scheme while the inhabitants of the Dark Tower were distracted. This meant that the poison was probably slow, meant to look like an infection, meant to fester and rot, slowly to claim her despite everything tried.

Raistlin's gut churned at the thought of what she may face.

He hoped that they had time yet to heal her and plan their own offensive. In an instant his mind was made up. Raistlin would go find Goldmoon and ask a favor of her goddess. For if the gods insisted on mocking him and his life, then they owed him this one small pittance for what they were putting him through.

But, for a few moments at least, the Conclave could wait and plan as they were going to do. Raistlin's revenge could wait; his rage and anger would wait. He needed to focus now. He needed to formulate a plan, and most of all he wanted to be by her side for just a few more minutes. Because if he failed and if what Dalamar said was indeed true, then there was nothing on this world or in the next that would be able to withstand his anger.

Raistlin reentered the room then and shut the door. The tiny click made Yurielle jump slightly, she had been dozing.

“Is something wrong?” she asked him as he went back to the table to the supplies he had brought.

“Nothing to worry about,” the mage said as he removed his robe and draped it over one of the chairs there. Grabbing the tray he came to her side, he knew that Dalamar was probably right, but he still did not want to forgo any other treatments that she needed.

He held the contents out before him, one was a vial that she could smell from there, it was green and gave off a pungent aroma of many herbs, the next was a small dish of a few powdered pills, the last was a half-filled vial of the poppy syrup.

Yurielle groaned as Raistlin held out the green vial. “This one first,” he was eyeing her face now, noting how clammy and flushed her skin had become.

She obeyed and gagged, taking the water he held out she drank, trying to wash the taste from her mouth. “Tits on the moon Raistlin... that was worse than before!”

“I need to write down your phrasing,” he shook his head as he held out the little dish with the pills.

“Going to use some of them yourself?” she asked and popped the pills into her mouth before washing them down with another drink of water.

“Maybe,” he smirked and eyed the remaining vial. “Let us wait on the last until you are ready for sleep. I want to see how effective the willow bark is for you before turning you into a incoherent simpleton again.”

“I'm not that bad...” she grumbled as he returned the tray to the table.

Going to the remaining package on the bed, Raistlin began to fish through it. It was a full of a few more items of clothing, a new small dagger in its sheath, bars of lightly fragrant soap and at the bottom he found a tin of hair pins before his hand closed around a handle. Triumphantly he pulled a new ivory brush from the bag. It was a simple design, but nicely made with inlaid silver and thick boar hair bristles.

She smiled at him from where she rested against the pillows, “Thank the gods!” Holding out her good hand as he came around the bed she waited for him to hand it to her.

Raistlin gave her a stern look before shaking his head slightly, “You will not be able to manage very well. Lifting your good arm will only pull on your injury.”

“Raistlin how am I supposed to...?” she argued but he interrupted her by kneeling next to her at the head of the bed.

“Rest Yurielle,” a long fingered hand gathered a knotted lock of rich auburn. “If I pull to hard, just elbow me in the gut. Though, do try not to bruise me with your boney elbow,” he stated as he ran the brush once through the lock in his hand, being very careful not to pull the snags too hard.

“Did you just... make a yet _another_ joke? You're on a roll today archmage!” Yurielle asked, though she felt her face flush at his gentle administering to her. She could see from the corner of her eye how close he was, for his abdomen was mere inches from her.

“Surly not I,” he said dryly.

They sat like that for a long time; the only sound was the soft snick slick of the hairbrush through her hair as Raistlin combed the tangles out with a gentleness and care that surprised her. Lulled by the brushes steady rhythm, the feel of his hands in her hair, the warmth he radiated and the even cycle of his breathing so close to her, Yurielle felt herself begin to weave in and out of sleep.

“Raist?” she murmured.

“Yes Yuri?” he didn't slow the brushes gentle movements.

“Don't be jealous...”

The brush now paused.

“I didn't think it was a contest Yurielle,” he replied, now continuing on a new spot, carefully working the tangles.

“There's always some kind of contest...” she smirked. “It makes you all blind to what's right in front of you,” she murmured quietly as she shifted against her pillows.

He didn't reply, only kept working on the task at hand. “Why does your hair fade like this?” he asked, fingering the blonde ends, they were nearly as gold as his skin in the firelight. “I sense no glamor or enchantment on it.... no chemical seems to be applied.”

She shrugged, “It's always been that way... my sisters turned black on the end instead of blonde. It was the only way to tell us apart.”

He continued the brushing, thinking about this strange fact. He was nearly finished but he felt loathed to stop. Finally after brushing every hair on her head several times until it was free of tangles and fell in soft waves around her head did he stop only to find that she had fallen fast asleep.

Through the window he could hear the clock tower outside chime three in the morning. Yawning suddenly, Raistlin contemplated summoning his apprentice to take over watching her so that he could sleep. Sitting back against the headboard like he had last night, Raistlin decided against it. After all, there was a half unused bed right here. He would nap for just an hour or so before leaving her side to search for the Qué-Shu tribe.

He closed his eyes, her words echoing in his head. Was he truly blind to what was in front of him? Was he a fool? Raistlin sighed heavily; he found that he was extremely frustrated. But he did not have the energy to be frustrated at anyone besides himself as sleep claimed him.

 

***

 

No more than a couple of hours had passed when suddenly Yurielle awoke, thrashing and screaming in agony as she tried to get away from whatever was attacking her in her dreams.

“Yurielle!” she could hear a voice calling to her. But there was so much pain. Pain and heat. She was being burned alive!

Raistlin had fallen asleep next to her, his head against the headboard of the bed but when she started violently he was up in an instant, trying to restrain her. “Stop moving!” he commanded before swearing violently when she was unresponsive to his voice. Her arm was warm to the touch, her forehead slick with sweat, eyes glazed and skin flush. She had developed a high fever; the poison perhaps wasn't as slow as he was hoping.

Again he swore at the apparent haste in which the Conclave moved. It was highly unlike them.

“Apprentice, I need you in Yurielle's chambers NOW,” he spoke his sending message calmly but the dark elf heard the edge to his masters voice. Dalamar appeared within moments, half dressed in only his pants that looked as if they were possibly put on backwards in his haste.

“She's having a fever dream... the poison is beginning,” the mage explained, holding the woman tightly to himself to keep her from moving her torso any more than necessary. He motioned with his head to the table. “The poppy syrup.”

Dalamar grabbed the vial and all but forced the contents into the woman’s mouth; she struggled and cried out in pain. Minutes passed until finally she began to still, even at half dose, it was enough to sedate her and she calmed.

Raistlin eased her back onto the pillows. He ran his hands down the sides of her face, internally burning her into his brain before raising and gathering his robes. “Stay with her,” he ordered as he donned the garment. “Dalamar...”

The dark elf then met the other man's gaze when he spoke his name, “If they begin their assault before I am back and all hope seems lost... release the fail safes. Let the Tower burn while you teleport away with her. They will get nothing from here.”

The elves face went pale at the thought. The Tower would indeed burn, as would half of the city. “It will not come to that Shalafi, I promise you.”

“Let us hope not,” Raistlin murmured and, laying his eyes one last time on Yurielle, he then turned and left.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've stated in my notes on this story, I am not following the canon timeline. In my story, Jenna is already a grown woman. Other characters are around as well that would not be yet, as we will eventually meet. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I do so love me some good hair brushing scenes ^_^  
> Thank you for reading!


	22. Goldmoon

This winter had been a milder one and the Qué-Shu of the plains of Abanasinia enjoyed a restful and plentiful winter. Game had not been driven so far south by the cold, so the tribe stayed in their autumn hunting grounds.

The morning was still dark and star filled when Riverwind decided to end his patrol at the very outskirts of their territory and head back to his wife and children. It had been a quiet night, like all of the others for many weeks. He didn't think tonight would end any differently until, on the crest of a hill not far away, a flash of light illuminated the shadow filled morning for a brief second before darkness swallowed the area once more.

Crouching low, Riverwind crept closer. He was a tall man, well over six feet, but he was lean and built like a hunting cat, and could move like his namesake. Smooth and quiet like water and wind, his dark skin and hair blended in with the shadows, and the black fur pelts he wore kept him warm and hidden from prying eyes.

Riverwind approached the hill silently, his eyes were well adjusted to the scarce morning light and he could discern the outline of a man in black, kneeling on top of it. He notched an arrow in his bow, ready to fire at a moment's notice as he approached warily.

Suddenly the sound of coughing floated to him on the wind; it was a crackling cough, harsh and unsteady. The man in black knelt lower in the snow, doubled over with the fit that had seized lungs that were not used to the crisp dry air of the late winter morning.

Riverwind froze at the sound that seemed to come at him from the past. It didn't seem possible.

He waited for several more moments as the man's fit passed, Riverwind heard him curse lowly, a voice that was quiet and raspy yet harsh in its sound. The hairs on the plainsman’s neck stood on end, it just couldn't be possible!

Riverwind watched as the man stood then, eyeing his surroundings. From the shadows where he crouched, Riverwind could see that indeed this newcomer wore long black robes; his heavy cloak was trimmed in black wolf fur. He held a long staff in his right hand and at once, Riverwind knew for certain whom the man was.

Only one man in all of Krynn had a staff like that.

The chieftain wanted very much to lose the arrow that he still held at the ready, wanted nothing better than to send the shaft through that man's evil heart. It was more than what the creature deserved, Riverwind knew. But he also knew that if Raistlin Majere suddenly appeared within the plains of his people in the middle of the night, he did so with purpose.

And the chieftain of the Qué-Shu must know if the purpose was for good or ill before he killed the wizard.

Riverwind inched forward, arrow still trained on the mage's heart. “State your intent in my lands Raistlin Majere,” his voice rang out clear and strong in the crisp air. “If you even so much as twitch, you are a dead man.” He hadn't used the common tongue in several years, so his accent was once again thick. But Riverwind knew that the black robe had heard him and had recognized his voice, for Raistlin instantly trained his eyes to the shadows where the plainsman crouched.

The sun began to turn the sky gray by the time the mage replied; he was obviously trying to carefully phrase his words. “It has been many years Riverwind,” the mage began in that low whispering voice that always unnerved the barbarian. “I was hoping that I would find you. I am surprised my spell brought me this close but I am grateful for it. Please friend...” the man took a tiny step forward.

Riverwind cut him off by letting loose his arrow, it pierced the snow and dirt right in front of Raistlin, just a scant inch from his boot, sending snow and mud splattering across the dark velvet robes. “I am NOT your friend mage!” Riverwind's voice growled from the darkness. “Never have I been. Never will I be. Take one more step and I kill you where you stand!” He already had a second arrow trained where that black heart beat, secretly Riverwind prayed that the wizard would give him reason to shoot it.

Raistlin bowed slowly, “Apologizes Riverwind. I know this is an unexpected appearance on my part. But friend or no, you understand that I would not seek you out unless it was of the utmost importance.”

“I can see no reason why a man such as you would need one such as I,” Riverwind stated. The sky was lightning more and was beginning to illuminate the strange golden sheen to the wizard's skin as the stars winked out one by one above them.

“I will be blunt Riverwind,” Raistlin began curtly; “I do not have much time. A life hangs in the balance as you cling to your old hatred of me.”

“Since when do you care about _lives_ magi?” Riverwind spat. “You left us to DIE on the blood sea! You left your twin, your BROTHER! Do you know how he has suffered these years since you ripped his heart out?!”

Raistlin sighed in barely contained frustration. “Riverwind,” he said calmly but that soft voice held an edge sharper than any weapon the plainsman had on his person. “You know as well as I that I could no longer walk beside my brother. To do so would have destroyed him utterly and more completely than what you claim he has endured since. He would never have left me willingly, so I chose to end it. Surly you see this as wisdom.”

Riverwind's eyes narrowed, for indeed, he know this to be the truth. He had seen the divide between the twins that was growing day by day during that time all those years ago. “It didn't make it right,” he stated coolly. “You could have made better choices. Instead you chose the foul path you walk now.”

“Yet I come to you with a plea Riverwind. As I said, a life hangs in peril. A life I dearly wish not to lose...” Raistlin said more quietly, gently even. “Please... lower your weapon. I swear to you that I mean you and your people no harm.” Very slowly, the archmage raised his hands, as he did he let the Staff of Magius fall from his grasp, it landed in the snow next to him with a dull thud.

Riverwind's eyes went wide; he understood that Raistlin Majere would never willingly let his staff out of his hand like this while being faced with the threat of death.

“Please Riverwind,” the mage spoke softly, his empty palms held out to him. “I only wish that you listen. Forget the past, just this once, and _listen_ to me.”

The barbarian heard the plea within that voice. So honest and earnest was it that it took chieftain by surprise. “Do not move,” Riverwind replied and slowly lowered his bow. Placing the arrow back in his quiver, he pulled his sword, letting the sound of it ring through the cold morning.

With slow deliberateness, Riverwind revealed himself to the mage.

The big man seemingly came out of nowhere; a testament to his ranger skills, for Raistlin truly did not see the other man until he was almost on top of him. The faintest glint of steel was the only thing that gave the barbarian away until he was only a few feet from the archmage. Raistlin bowed his head, the tiniest incline, as the chieftain came up to him, towering over him.

Riverwind had always been a giant among men, even taller than Caramon, and he towered over the thin and lean form of the archmage. Raistlin had forgotten how intense the plainsman’s eyes where and of how stern and dangerous this man could be.

Raistlin knew that he had to tread carefully. For one wrong word would mean death for one or both of them if it came to blows, especially being this close to one another. Raistlin's magic was powerful, but spellwork needed seconds to cast while the ranger held death in his very hands.

“Speak mage,” Riverwind's deep timber of a voice hummed around them as the first rays of light began to tinge the edge of the sky pink. As if to remind Raistlin of how deadly he was with his weapons, Riverwind held the blade at the ready, it caught the dying starlight along it's cold edge.

Raistlin stared at the man, his breath misting between them in slow, even plums. Riverwind was one with this climate, used to the cold, while it was all Raistlin could do to not shiver in his cloak. “I need help Riverwind. I need...” he paused, knowing the big man would not like this, but he pressed onward. “I need Goldmoon's healing...”

Raistlin knew that Riverwind would be fast, but he could never imagine just how fast he really was. For the words were barely out of the archmage and already the big man had closed the distance between them.In a blink the barbarian had swung his short sword, the razor thin tip caught the mage across the cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. In a movement that was too fast to see in the dim light, Riverwind froze in front of the archmage and Raistlin could feel cold steel of the other man's previously concealed dagger pressed to his neck. Blood welled up against the blade, it's sharp edge biting into his metallic skin as their eyes locked.

 

“No,” the chieftain rumbled, deep in his chest. “Return to your Dark Tower. You do not deserve any help, for you are beyond it. Your darkness is complete Raistlin Majere. No light, not even that of Goldmoon, can save your soul now.”

Raistlin swallowed hard, the blade bit deeper at the action, drawing more blood that trickled freely down his throat to settle in the hollow of his collarbones. But his golden gaze never wavered from the other man's dark brown eyes, “I am perhaps yes... but the one who needs Goldmoon... she is nowhere near as lost as I. She does not deserve the fate that she will face without your wife’s healing mercy.”

“She...?” Riverwind's eyes narrowed.

“Yurielle...” the mage breathed her name as if it were the holiest of words. “Her name is Yurielle.”

The big man watched incredulously as the mage's eyes softened as he continued to whisper. “I just found her Riverwind. I cannot lose her.... she lays dying even as we speak. Goldmoon is the only one who can save her!”

Riverwind stepped back then, staring at the wizard before him, eyes wide, expecting a trick. It took him several moments to recover his wits. “What is this woman to you black robe?” the chieftain finally asked, his dagger pointing at the mage's face. “You say that you cannot lose her but from where I stand, she is best to die than stay within your presence! I know how you poison all around you with your foulness!”

The gold skinned man was silent for many moments as he thought. The tangle of emotions were raging through him once more. Only this time, Raistlin had some insight on them as they once again assaulted him. Through the storm inside of him, through the questions and all of the doubts, there was one small, infinitesimal flutter of Raistlin's heart. The tiniest spark of warmth flickered deep within the being of Raistlin Majere. He knew then, much to his surprise and horror, that she meant too much to him...

Gods dammit maybe he was weak! Maybe he was a fool! But fully and completely, Raistlin knew then in that moment that he could not lose Yurielle.

He would not lose her because of past wrongs and especially not because of one barbarian's hatred for him. Raistlin knew that he must think of words that would convince the plainsman, for her life hung on whether or not he could sway the other man to see past what had happened all those years ago. Desperately Raistlin searched deep inside of himself, searched in places long dormant for the words that would save her.

Riverwind was about to demand that he answer when the mage softly replied, “I am darkness Riverwind... but she is my star.”

The two men stared at one another in the cold morning; the sky around them had turned to a hazy dust of pinks and grays as the last of the tiny points of light faded away above them. They could see one another clearly now as the minutes went on. The words of the archmage had pierced deep into the chieftain's heart, for he clearly understood what the dark wizard was saying with his choice of words. This Yurielle was no ordinary woman if she had somehow managed to light the shroud of evil around Raistlin Majere.

Very slowly, Riverwind lowered the dagger. “If this is a trick mage....”

“It is not.”

“If it is...” Riverwind repeated menacingly, “No magic will save you.”

Raistlin bowed, relief shone plainly on his thin face. “Thank you, Riverwind.”

“I have not agreed,” the big man shot back. “I will let Goldmoon decide for herself if she will help this star of yours.”

 

***

 

The sun had just crested the horizon but Goldmoon was already awake and preparing her family's morning meal. Her husband would be home soon, he would be tired and hungry and the children had missed him. She smiled as she worked the dough in her slender hands into small thin wafers that would be their bread as her eyes drifted over the still sleeping forms of her children.

How blessed she was, to have been given such gifts. She thanked Mishakal, her goddess, for bringing her onto the path that had brought her and her husband together. They had seen many terrible things, fought many battles, seen many evils and endured much hardship. But their lives were now full of one another, and together they had three beautiful children to raise as together they led their people as joint chieftains, working hard to reunite all of the plains tribes once more.

She spread the thin wafers on a flat rock and laid it near the low cooking fire as she contemplated this. A yawn caught her then, she was weary, for she had not slept much last night. Mishakal had sent her a dream, she was sure of it. But she could not figure out what it had meant and found that sleep came uneasily after that.

As the bread baked her children began to stir. First to awaken was the firstborn, a strong lad they had named Wanderer after Riverwind's father. The boy was fierce yet kind as he helped his mother waken the smaller twin girls, Moonsong and Brightdawn, whom were barely toddlers themselves. After the children had washed their faces and dressed, the four of them turned in unison to the sound of someone outside of their hut.

“Daddy!” Wanderer cried as the big man entered their home.

The children all but assaulted their father, burying him under their tiny hugs and kisses. The big man was on the ground, laughing and rolling with his children. Even through the happy scene, Riverwind's eyes met those of his wife, and she knew that he had news.

“Come now children let your father breathe!” Goldmoon laughed and shooed them away. “Eat your meal, there is honey there and fresh butter.”

The children dashed back to their places around the fire, each taking their share and loading the wafers down with far too much honey. Goldmoon sighed but turned her eyes back to her husband. “You are back,” she smiled and kissed him lovingly. “But I see trouble in your eyes chieftain. Can the news not wait until you have eaten?”

His eyes softened in the way he only allowed them to around his family, “You know me too well wife.” He took her hands in his and kissed them gently. “But I am afraid my breakfast will be late. We have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” Goldmoon eyed the door of the hut, expecting someone to enter behind her husband.

“I left him half a mile outside of the village,” Riverwind explained. “He is being well guarded...” his face was now dark.

Goldmoon's forehead wrinkled. “Who...?”

Riverwind sighed heavily, wishing to the gods he did not have to tell her this. “My love,” he still held her hands in his, “Raistlin Majere has come to seek out your healing powers. Not for himself,” he cut off her assumption. “He claims someone important to him is dying.... A woman.”

Goldmoon's eyes went wide at this. “You are certain?”

The big man shrugged his large muscular shoulders, “No one can be for certain with mages... especially the ones of the dark moon. But he seemed sincere... and he would not seek you out for no reason. Still, I would not allow him to come near the village.”

His wife was thoughtful for a few moments before finally speaking, “What did he say? How did he find you?”

Riverwind shook his head, “As I led him here, he told me he used magic to find me, then he brought himself here by the magic. He appeared on a hill top not far from where I was ranging. When I approached him, he wouldn’t say much, only that he needs your help to save a woman named Yurielle...” he sighed then. “As I said, he would not say much more beyond that. He only wishes to speak with you. I do not trust him. He has always been a snake. But... I will not lie to you wife. I've never seen this look in his eyes.... Something about what he says, I find that I want to believe him.”

Goldmoon nodded, “Then it is good enough for me,” she reached down and gathered up her furs and wrapped them around her shoulders. “Take me to him.”

“Wife,” Riverwind lay his hand on her arm before she could march straight out of their home. “This may still be a trap... some dark deception. You owe him nothing.”

Goldmoon searched her husband's face. “No we do not owe him anything. Raistlin Majere chose his path willingly years ago. But Caramon Majere....” her eyes softened. “He is our brother now. Close as any blood and we help out blood.”

“Last I spoke with Caramon,” Riverwind rumbled, “his twin all but disowned him and our brother drank himself into a bottle. Only recently, with the birth of his children, has he finally moved on with his life. As far as I'm concerned, Caramon Majere is the only twin to have survived the War of the Lance....”

The woman patted his arm gently, “I know husband. But Raistlin was once our companion. He never outright treated any of us ill. He chose his path and if Caramon is to be believed, he is the one to allow the Dark Queen to be sealed in the Abyss. The light works in strange ways my love. Sometimes it must shine _through_ the darkness.”

Riverwind started at her words.

Goldmoon saw the change in his demeanor, “What my love?”

The man only shook his head. “It's just something that the wizard said to me. But I wish for him to tell you himself. Let the mage explain to you what this woman means to him... perhaps... perhaps the gods still work in mysterious ways.”

 

***

 

Minutes later, after the children were safely taken next door to be watched by one of Goldmoon's handmaidens, Riverwind and his wife finally set out to speak with the Master of the Past and the Present.

It didn't take them long to reach the flat plain of snow and shrubs. As they neared, Goldmoon saw that at least thirty of the tribes best warriors were all standing in a tight circle, their spears lowered towards the middle, their faces were grim.

Riverwind commanded the nearest to them to part and Goldmoon couldn't help but gasp, for there in the center, sat Raistlin Majere in the snow and mud. It had been over five years since she had last seen this man, but his appearance never failed to startle her.

The archmage knelt on the cold ground, head bowed with his hands palm up on his legs. His face was calm despite the fact that thirty spear points were less than an inch away from his body all around, ready to skewer him if he so much as twitched wrong. The famed Staff of Magius lay in the snow a few feet in front of him, as if he had placed it there and backed willingly away from it.

The man was dressed in thick black robes, his black cloak was trimmed in dark fur but the hood was pulled back, revealing the golden skin, white hair, and unsettling eyes that she remembered from so long ago.

At their approach the mages head slowly raised, recognition flickered through those hard, cold eyes of his. But Goldmoon also saw relief.

Relief and hope.

“I have brought her wizard,” Riverwind rumbled. “Speak.”

Raistlin bowed his head once more, “Goldmoon. I thank you for coming.”

“Be at ease warriors,” the woman commanded the men surrounding the mage using their own language. “Let me speak to our guest alone.”

As one the warriors lowered their spears, took several steps back, turned, and retreated twenty paces away. They gave their chieftains space, but they remained alert and ready to defend her if needed.

“Raistlin Majere,” Goldmoon greeted the mage in the common tongue once the warriors were well away. “How have the years treated you?”

“The years have passed,” he stated simply, now looking back up at the woman before him.

Goldmoon was one of the few humans who faded more slowly before his eyes, not as slowly as an elf, but slower so that he could still see her features for longer than a few heartbeats until they faded away to a husk. She was still a stunning woman even after all of these years. Poised and strong, her hair was both gold and silver, flowing down her back. Fair and beautiful, few women in all of Krynn could compare to Goldmoon of the Qué-Shu tribe. The years of leadership and motherhood had only made her more beautiful and right now her bright blue eyes regarded him cautiously yet they seemed opened and more accepting of seeing him than her husband had been.

Raistlin took this to be a good sign.

“Pleasantries aside,” he continued calmly, “I am afraid that my time here is rushed. So I will get straight to the point. I need your help Goldmoon, or more to the fact, I need Mishakal's divine healing.”

“So my husband tells me,” she stated, coming nearer to him. As she came closer she could see a thin line of blood on the man's cheek, as well as a deeper cut on his neck. “What has happened to you?” she indicated the wounds.

Those unnatural eyes flicked over to regard Riverwind then came back to fall on her, “Far less than what I was expecting to happen.” He waved her away when she made to come inspect the wounds closer, “I will be fine. Please lady, the matter at hand,” Raistlin reminded, a slight edge crept into his voice now.

“Yes of course,” she righted herself. “Please tell me how Mishakal may aid you black robe. For her healing is given to all.”

“Let us hope so...” he said quietly. “May I stand?”

Riverwind made a low sound in his throat but Goldmoon hushed him with a look, “Of course Raistlin. My apologies, I know your health is frail and you are sure to be chilled by now.”

“I have improved in that area,” he stated as he stood slowly, his legs had gone numb from the cold and his robes and pants beneath were now soaked from the snow. Raistlin raised a hand to halt any further questions going down that road. “There is a mage in my care who is injured. The story is long, and is not important but I believe that she has been poisoned by her attackers. I have no time to figure out the antidote and I could not venture out into Palanthas to find a cleric willing to come to her aid. You were the only one I could think of...”

“If you wish for my wife to blindly follow you mage,” Riverwind's deep voice rumbled menacingly, “then you will tell us everything.”

“Riverwind,” Goldmoon soothed.

With great effort Raistlin held back his usual instinct to scathe them with disparaging remarks. Instead he sighed and nodded. “I will tell you if you wish it lady. But, every moment that we spend here discussing it, the deeper into sickness she falls.”

“Tell me of this woman,” Goldmoon said softly. “And tell me the words you spoke to my husband to convince him to bring you to me.”

Raistlin eyed her carefully. He had spent the better part of the last thirty minutes trying to figure out why he was even here and lowering himself to ask help from barbarians. For he knew all too well that he could have forced Goldmoon to help him. He didn't fear these spears and knives of these people.

But, he knew that out right force would do no good. So he had instead forced himself to try and plan what he would say to the cleric of Mishakal. But he had struggled as he had sat here in the snow. Struggled against the anxiety of not knowing what was happening at his Tower and with the growing dread that he would ultimately fail.

The only thing he could think was that this was all for Yurielle, and he knew that he could not watch her die without doing anything. So he had to try and he had to muster what was left of his dignity.

“Yurielle is of the order of black robes,” Raistlin explained quietly as Riverwind scowled. The mage ignored him and kept going, “But she wears them not by her own design, not because what lays in her heart. The very opposite...” he thought then, his forehead creasing. “...she told me once that she 'plays in the darkness, so that others do not have too'....” his eyes met Goldmoon's now. “To answer your question of what I spoke to Riverwind I told him thus that 'I am darkness Riverwind... but she is my star.' That is Yurielle and that is what she means to me. That is why I need your help Goldmoon... I will not stand by idly while she suffers.”

Goldmoon's eyes widened and she looked at her husband who gave a nod of acknowledgment. “The light truly does work in strange ways...” she confirmed. “I had a dream last night... a vision from my goddess. I have not been able to decipher it until now...” She took her husband's hand in hers and squeezed it, her eyes then going back to the mage.

“It was of a tiny light fighting off the darkness and losing. Its fire was going out, the blackness consuming it. It cried into the night but... no other light or warmth would come aide it, none would hear its call. In the dream even I did not wish to go venture to where it resided, for I was terrified. The blackness that it fought off was that of nightmares and anger... the malice and hatred was thick, filled with vast evil intent on nothing but devouring all existence.”

Raistlin's eyes went wide and Goldmoon noted the look of fear in them, “This woman... she has a purpose. Mishakal wishes for me to aide her, so I will go with you Raistlin Majere and see how I may help her.”

If Raistlin had been more of an affectionate man, he would have hugged the woman then. But he merely bowed low and offered her a rare smile of honest warmth. “She is a unique treasure... at first I thought the god's were mocking me when I met her.” He regarded the cleric then, his body has gone numb. “But, perhaps they do indeed work in mysterious ways as you say.”

 

***

 

It only took a few minutes for Goldmoon to say her farewell's to her husband, reassuring him that she will be safe. For this was her goddess' will that she do this and no harm will come to her. Raistlin as well tried to assure the chieftain that he would return Goldmoon as soon as he was able. It may in fact be the very same day; he had no way of knowing.

When she was ready, Raistlin took up his staff and began his preparations to cast his teleportation spell back to the tower in Palanthas. Without a circle to transport from, he had to cast the full incantation as he drew lines in the snow around them, binding the circle to his tower and allowing him a place that he would use to return them here. Once he was done and the spell complete, both the mage and the cleric vanished in a bright light and appeared again seconds later within the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas inside of the laboratory.

Raistlin quickly took Goldmoon by the arm, “Apologies to what you may see in this room cleric. If you will not close your eyes and let me guide you, then look straight ahead and follow me.”

Goldmoon's senses were bombarded with smells and sights. Most were of rot and decay, harsh spices and corrosive scents. The room was dim, having only one magical orb lit at the far end of the room. From the low light she could make out tables and vials, skeletons and jars full of unknown substances. She obeyed the archmage and did not let herself look or question as he led her straight to the door. Once through they descended a long arch of stairs. They soon reached a landing and Raistlin led her to a door that was half open, firelight pierced the gloom like the blade of a yellow knife.

Entering the room beyond, Goldmoon saw that it was a small bed chamber. A modest bed sat at one end past a table and fireplace. The window was cracked open and the room was chilled with the frigid bite of winter. An elf sat next to the bed and was wrapped in layers of dark fabric with a basin of water sitting next to him from which he bathed the face of the woman in the bed. Goldmoon started at the sight, and she heard Raistlin's intake of breath when he saw the woman again.

The cleric knew then that things had not improved.

“Shalafi,” the elf stood and bowed. “She has been weaving in and out of consciousness. I fear her fever has increased significantly since you left. It is all I can do to try and keep keep her cool...” The elves deep brown eyes met Goldmoon's and he nodded to her. “Goldmoon of the Qué-Shu, I am relieved my master was able to convince you to come.” He turned back to Raistlin, “The arcane-hunter has been howling all morning, I should go see what our friends outside are trying.”

Raistlin already dismissed the elf with a sharp wave of his hand. Dalamar hurried out of the room, leaving the cleric and Raistlin alone with the sick woman. Goldmoon watched as Raistlin went to Yurielle's bedside and took the damp cloth from her forehead. “I have returned Yurielle,” he murmured to her as he brushed the strands of damp hair from her face with a gentle hand.

Goldmoon came to the other side of the bed to finally get a good look at its uncovered occupant. The woman laying on its surface was pale, her skin clammy and slick with sweat. Eyes closed and red rimmed with fever, dark circles marred the flesh around the orbs. Her lips were nearly gray with their coloring. Dark auburn hair fell around the woman's pillows like rivers of dark blood, the ends leeched of color. The woman's torso was wrapped tightly in bandages, right arm bound within them; her black leggings were the only clothing she wore as the rest of her was exposed to the cold air of the room. She looked nearly like a corpse.

“I have brought a cleric...” Raistlin was saying, his hand had taken the woman’s left in his own.

“What happened?” Goldmoon indicated the bandages then ran her own fingers over the woman's hot skin.

“She was ambushed and took a crossbow bolt to the shoulder. I have been treating her wound; her healing will be slow as the bolt went through her shoulder blade. My apprentice believes that the bolt was coated with poison, thus her sudden decline,” Raistlin explained, his eyes never leaving the woman's ashen face. “My Tower is under attack by our enemies.... They wish to snuff her out because of her powers. She is not like other mages... half of her power comes from the wild magic. They fear her because of it.”

“Wild magic?” Goldmoon blinked. There were old stories among her people of mages not born with the power of the moons, but of that of the earth and cosmos. Their powers were never strong, but always ran deep within them, connecting them to nature in ways other magic users could never understand. “Truly she is unique Raistlin, if what you say is true. The gods indeed are mysterious.”

He merely nodded, his eyes finally turning to her. “Can you help her?”

In that moment, he looked so much like her dear friend Caramon that Goldmoon could only stand there with her mouth hanging open.

“I shall try,” she nodded when she recovered and sat on the edge of the bed next to Yurielle, her hand still over her clammy forehead. Closing her eyes, Goldmoon prayed to her goddess. She felt the healing come to her, but it was as if something was blocking it from reaching the sick woman. Opening her eyes, the cleric frowned, “Something... someone... blocks Mishakal.”

Raistlin swore then, a dark oath forced venomously through his rasping throat. He rose and began to pace around the room in anger, “Nuitari I swear! If you do not let this woman be healed... my ire will fall upon you and not your mother. Do you wish this to be so?”

Goldmoon had no understanding of what he spoke of and she only half listened to his anger. Her focus instead was on the woman before her. Removing the pendant from around her neck, Goldmoon rested it against Yurielle's chest, just below the slender collarbones. The woman stirred then, groaning. “Raist...” her voice was harsh and thin.

The black robe was at her side in an instant. “I am here Yurielle,” he said softly, all his anger gone now. He took her hand in his once more.

“Do not... be angry... do not...” the woman groaned in pain. “I cannot be healed... not yet... I must see... I must take my Test...”

Questions filled the archmage's eyes but he remained quiet as he held her hand in his and squeezed it gently before pressing her knuckles to his lips.

Goldmoon watched their interaction, awed by the shift in the man she always had known as cold and distant. “Mishakal wishes for her to be healed, she wills it. But the dark veil around her is thick,” her blue eyes met gold. “I fear she fights on many levels Raistlin... For now, there is nothing I can do.”

 

 


	23. The Test of High Sorcery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And all the stars without a name  
> And all the skies that look the same  
> And all the clouds that fade and then  
> Then all of this begins again  
> ~The Humming - Enya

Yurielle stood inside the large circular room that was the Hall of Mages within Wayreth Tower. Six other apprentices stood with her, their ages, races, and sexes varied but Yurielle paid them no mind. Anxiety and excitement warred in her stomach, for she was finally here to take part in this long awaited day. For today she was to take the Test of High Sorcery and take her place among the magehood.

When Justarius had come to her and told her that they would allow her to take her Test, Yurielle nearly cried with relief. In her heart she knew that she was ready, she had known for years that she was ready. But with the lands of Krynn torn apart by the war, the wizards at Wayreth had other matters to attend too and so all Tests had been put on hold for the last few years. Or, at least, that is what Par-Salian and her mentors would tell her. It was only now, a year after the end of the war, that the Tests had finally resumed and she was one of the first group of novices to go through the trials.

Frustration raged inside of her at this. For Yurielle had wanted to go out and help those in need, she desperately wanted to go forth and aide in the war, to lend her magic on the side of good.

She had wanted to prove herself.

But they would not let her. Instead she was stuck in the Tower, translating and sorting through artifacts that they told her would be just as much aide in the war as going out and fighting. Her skills were important yes, the knowledge she often uncovered in ancient texts proved to be valuable to the Conclave as they fought against the Dark Goddess and her armies. But Yurielle had wanted to do more; she _knew_ that she could do more. At the time she as merely a novice, but now her chance had finally come, even though it was years too late.

Relative peace had returned to Krynn after the Dark Queen had been locked in the Abyss and her armies scattered. So Yurielle continued to study and live life the same as she had before the war. Isolated and alone, she was the only permanent student in residence within the Tower and it felt like the months that had passed were really decades as she sat at her desk endlessly transcribing tomes for the Conclave.

Even though she had lived at the Tower for much of her life, Yurielle had long awaited the day to see the inside of this secret room. Long had she yearned for the chance to prove herself, to finally take the first few steps down her own road. Finally she had hope that her life would change and now she stood here with the other young mages as they waited to take the life altering Test of High Sorcery. Finally she could be free of this place and seek answers to the burning questions that she dare ask no one else.

For when she had asked her masters all the questions that burned in her heart, they had all looked at her with revulsion.

For she was not like them, not truly, and this fact had always made Yurielle feel unwanted among the other mages. There was a strangeness about her, something off about her magic. They would explain away her questions with flippant answers and halfhearted explanations that the magic just was that way for her. They never let her seek her own answers though, they never let her explore why this was the case. They just expected her to accept it. As years went on, Yurielle stopped asking and stopped trying to find answers. She had come to accept that she indeed was a wizard, the same as the others here. But there was something else... something deeper that stirred inside of her. When she let it out, they would reprimand her.

Sick of ignoring this part of herself, Yurielle longed for this day with every fiber of her being.

Today she would take her Test and be able to live her own life. She would choose which moon she would follow and she would go out and find her answers.

Yurielle's fingers played with the hem of her white robes, it was the only outward sign of how nervous she truly was as she waited with the others. White robes... she had worn them since she was a child, taking after her master Par-Salian, the first one to train her in the ways of the arcane, she took his robes to honor his deity Solinari. Would she stay with that god? Yurielle felt like yes she would. Solinari was good and just, he offered protection magic as well as spells to aide others. This is what she wanted, to support and aide others around her, to offer her help.

But was it? She thought of the red goddess Lunitari, the one who offered balance. Who held magic that could both protect as well as destroy. It was a fine line that one would walk under her guidance. She offered illusion magic as well as dipping into select spells of both white and black. Balance was something Yurielle honored and sought desperately for in her own life. Perhaps the goddess of the red moon would grant her the answers she desperately desired.

Then of course there was Nuitari... god of the dark moon. Yurielle shuddered in revulsion. She would not walk that path. Any power that god could offer her held no interest to her.... well, besides curses that is.

Yurielle shook her head to clear her thoughts. She had to focus, not get lost in idle wondering within her own mind as she so often did. Curses were indeed her favorite subject, but she did not have to walk in the light of the black moon to reverse curses. For that is what she wanted to do more than anything. Curse breaking was fascinating and Yurielle wanted to learn more about this. She just had to take her Test first before she would be granted the ability to study.

Taking a deep breath, she said a silent prayer to all three gods asking for their guidance and their protection in this the most important day of her life. If they showed Yurielle her path, she vowed that she would walk it willingly and openly, no matter what.

No matter what.

The air was thick with anticipation as the three heads of the Conclave finally entered the room, drawing Yurielle out of her reverie. One by one they called the names of the other novice's. Yurielle was last to be called and with her usual dazzling smile she hurried forward towards Par-Salian. The white robed man regarded her silently as she approached and said nothing as he led her through the far corridor and down into the chamber that would be where her Test would take place.

Finally they reached a door, with a wave of the old ones hand, it swung open silently. Nothing but blackness lay beyond. The aged man turned to her then; his bright blue eyes were dulled and crowded by wrinkled skin. He seemed as if he would say something but faltered.

Yurielle smiled at him, “I'll do you and Solinari, no all the gods of magic, proud today master,” she stated. “You've taught me well and I'm honored to finally be able to prove to you and the other Heads that you did not waste your time on me.”

Par-Salian blinked at her, taken aback by her words. His eyes swept over her, taking in her honest face that he had watched grow from a malnourished youth into a beautiful young woman. Her auburn hair stood out sharply against the bright white of her plain robes and it seemed to Par-Salian that the red in the strands made it seem like blood flowed over the cloth and bled its color out to leave only the golden ends. The old archmage could not suppress the icy cold tingle that prickled up his spine. For he knew that the Test that he and the other Heads had orchestrated for her was going to be one of the most difficult ever faced by one so young. Second only to another young man who had taken it years prior. The Highmage shook his head, not wanting to draw comparisons between this woman and the man who had gone renegade.

He motioned for her to enter the dark doorway, “Gods be with you Yurielle,” was all that he said.

The smile on the woman's face dropped slightly at her master's empty voice. There was something hidden there that sent a shiver of fear through her. For the first time in her life, Yurielle doubted her ability. Perhaps she wasn't ready?

It didn't matter though; she thought as her eyes focused on the doorway before her, she would take her Test and prove herself. She would prove to herself and to the rest of the magehood that she was the same as everyone else. Failure meant death, so it didn't really matter in the long run anyway if she wasn't ready.

If she failed, there would be no one who would mourn her for very long anyway. This realization hardened the usually gentle woman. Without hesitation, Yurielle walked through the doorway and entered the shadows beyond.

Instantly, the blackness writhed out at her and engulfed her, pulling her down into depths so vast and complete there was nothing else that could exist.

Suffocating darkness overwhelmed her; the miasma around her was thick and oily and radiated vast eternal evil that shriveled her heart to even be near it. Clawed hands of blackened bone tore at her, pulling at her white robes and staining the cloth wherever they touched with crimson and ash.

There was laughter then that echoed through the void and a deep rasping whisper sounded. _'There are secrets and there is power that only I can show you...'_ the sound of it slithered through her brain. Yurielle knew that she had heard this voice before... somewhere. She grasped at the fleeting memory as she tumbled in the void.

For a heartbeat she was sitting within a lush library. Someone sat next to her, a lean arm was held in her hand. The light in the room shifted and gleaned against the skin of the other persons arm, lighting its surface with a sheen of gold.

The laughter intensified and the blackness gripped at her, squeezing her painfully. She felt as if she were being compacted, pushed down into one small point of existence. All Yurielle could do was close her eyes as the darkness took her deeper into the nothingness.

As she fell, she felt the compression intensify, her heart hammered in her chest at the realization that she was being destroyed. The magic around was gone, the gods had abandoned her, in their absence there simply was nothing for her to do. Soon she would shatter, her essence flung into what was left of the cosmos. In that moment, Yurielle did the only thing she knew how to.

She sang.

The song burst from her, the melody rang through the darkness as she hummed a tune that had no meaning to her, the sounds just seemed right as they brought her comfort. There were no words, only notes that rang across the blackness, filling it with a melodic hum the reverberated back at her.

Yurielle opened her eyes then to find that she stood on the edge of a great cliff, the only light that gave any indication of what was around her seemed to come from herself. But this light that she gave off was dimming fast as the darkness around her surged and tried in vain to reach her once again.

Black shadows still passed around her, blacker than the darkness beyond within the empty void. The formless shapes were cold and menacing, their grasping arms like tendrils of oily smoke. That slithering laughter seemed to hiss at her as the shadowed rolled around her in endless chaos of senseless destruction.

But, for now, her light seemed to be holding them at bay as the last few notes of her song faded off. The sounds of her voice echoed all around her and it seemed as if other voices hummed with her but they were so very, very faint.

“Help me!” she then called into the darkness, hoping that someone, something was out there to hear her. Her voice shot beams of ever dimming light out into the void around her.

For one brief moment, a tiny glimmer shown through the darkness. Warmth reached her, the hand of a god tried to touch her. Yurielle reached back for it but it was cut off by the shadows as they closed in ever tighter around her.

They were squeezing and pulling at her, ripping her apart.

“You cannot expect me to do this alone!” Yurielle cried into the night. “You have given me an impossible task...” she sank to her knees; hot tears ran down her face as she felt herself begin to fade away under the never ending assault.

In that moment she heard a male voice echo around her, _“I am here Yurielle.”_

A sob escaped her tight throat. She knew that voice... somehow she knew that he had golden skin. In her mind's eye she saw a Tower and a man in black robes that hovered near her form lying prone on a bed. Yurielle didn't understand what was happening. She felt like she was truly there, in his presence, but yet she was also here, floating in the void, abandoned.

Alone, lost, and forgotten. Yurielle felt as if she wasn't supposed to even exist. But that voice... It made her _want_ to exist.

“What part is he in all of this?” she cried into the emptiness, her hands sinking into the dry soil beneath her, she unconsciously grabbed fistfuls of it as if it would anchor her through this madness. “I don't understand... who _IS_ he?!”

Then, to her horror, she noted that the ground beneath her was crumbling away, the soil disappearing around her and bringing the edges of nothingness closer and closer to her as she wept.

It would be so easy to just let the darkness take her. No one would even take note of her death. She'd just be one more orphan who would be forever forgotten... Hopelessness filled her as she pulled her fists to her chest, the grains of the dirt still clenched in her hands staining her fading robes.

Yurielle gasped for she suddenly realized that the soil in her hands was warm! It was alive even as it was crumbling apart around her and dying with her. She was tangled within it, the soil had crept up her legs and had taken hold of her. Light pulsed along the tendrils that cradled her.

No... the light pulsed up FROM the ground and was entering her body. It was fueling the light that she was giving off and Yurielle could then hear the music. Even though it wasn't her voice, the sound was singing the same notes she had filled the space around her with.

A multitude of harmony’s floated around her, bringing her some measure of comfort.

The grains of warm soil continued to fall through her fingers and Yurielle thought of sand falling through an hourglass. But instead of coming to rest peacefully at the bottom of the glass, the grains where sucked away into the darkness around her, devoured into a void that would never be filled.

As she watched the grains disappear, Yurielle had the oddest sensation that it was her soul that was falling through an hourglass. Slowly fading away until nothing was left...

Her eyes returned to the black shapes writhing around her and suddenly there were golden stars within the void of black inky shadows that continued to suffocate her and press in around her. The stars danced with the oily darkness, the lights fading and turning black, rolling over and over along the surface of this chaos that was crushing her.

Disoriented, Yurielle again closed her eyes and latched onto the ground below her. There was warmth and life there within the soil. Something so familiar yet so vast and alien that it seemed to be something apart from what she could understand. There was also some form of consciousness that reached out for her, its own hum of music begging her to listen, to join in its song. “Who....?”

At that instance of recognition, at realizing that the thing below her was an entity unto itself, everything around Yurielle shifted as her eyes flung open. She was again on a small floating piece of rock; the dirt in her hands no longer fell through her fingertips. The soil had ceased its crumbling and now the dirt in her hands was soft and glittered like shimmering gold dust.

The golden pinpoints of light around her flared once then faded as the shadows and lights coalesced and flashed brightly. Shapes took form out of the battling light and dark, and suddenly the gods stood above her, their faces too bright or terrible to look upon as they regarded her.

Her soul knew them. She knew who and what stood around her. Closest to her were the god's of magic. Solinari burned silver and cold like the white moon he was. Nuitari, dark and secret stood before her, she could feel his gaze upon her the strongest. Lunitari, red as blood stood between the two, the fulcrum of balance. Yurielle could not look upon their faces, but she saw their visages in her mind's eye. Terrifying yet comforting, the gods of magic stared at her with what looked like pride and infinite love in their eternal eyes that shifted like the phases of their moons.

Behind her, she felt the parent gods. Paladine, father of goodness was like a blazing flame of white, so intense was he that Yurielle knew that to look upon him meant death. Beside him shimmered a being of white and cyan, Mishakal who was trying to offer her healing. Next to them stood Gilean, god of knowledge, acting as balance between the light and the shadows on the other side of him. Yurielle could then sense Takhisis, dark in her malevolence. The evil goddess was less than a wisp, projecting herself to her from the Abyss, but the chill that rolled off of her was unmistakable.

Yurielle could not lay eyes upon them, yet she saw them and knew them. And her soul was flayed open to their intense gazes. They stood motionless, watching and waiting with the patience that only eternity granted.

The woman shut the gods out. Instead she focused on the dirt in her hands once more. It was indeed alive! For she could feel now the slight pulse of life. However, this life did not belong to a god, nor was it mortal. It was something different yet strange, and Yurielle felt that strangeness that she did not understand inside of her stir.

For she could feel a connection to this entity that was far stronger than any she felt to these godly beings around her. “Who...?” she asked again as she ran her fingers through the soft earth. Plain, cold stars flared around her then, washing her and the soil with vitality and warmth, focusing through her.

Suddenly she knew what it was. Finally she had a name for it.

The wild magic.

“What... how?”

Feeling the ambient magic flow around her, Yurielle could now clearly hear the melody as well, the song of the cosmos echoed back to her like a rising and falling harmony, balancing existence. It was the same way that she sang the weave around her glittered with the music of existence.

It was heartbreakingly beautiful, this weave of magic. So different than what she understood.

As she observed the intricate weave of all that was, Yurielle saw, for a heartbeat, the shape of an hourglass float through the cosmos. The golden glitter of it within the weave receded into the darkness beyond her sight.

The woman blinked and it was gone.

Feeling the wild magic surge through her, Yurielle dared to look up into the eyes of the god's of magic before her. For she suddenly felt as if she was allowed to, now she was worthy to look upon them.

Nuitari's eyes narrowed, he never liked her and she could feel his contempt radiate from those endless black eyes of his. That light that always hurt her emanated from him and rained down upon her. But now, in this moment, it did nothing to her. Those dark eyes, like the moon eclipsed, ringed in void light, looked at her with a grudging respect as she held his gaze evenly.

As one the cousins of magic spoke, their voices woven together in that familiar tide of magic that she knew so well. “Who do you serve? What is your purpose? Why do you exist?”

The words were like hot brands to Yurielle's brain, searing into her mind. “The magic...” she whispered, burying her face into the warm dirt, drawing strength from it. “I serve the magic... I exist because of it...”

She wanted so badly to to fade, to disappear. This was agony!

“Which magic?!” all of the gods spoke now.

Her soul trembled.

“Please let me fade...!” she pleaded. It hurt so badly, this crushing and tearing of her very essence.

A golden face hovered in her mind's eye as she wished to cease to exist. Power emanated from that face, it was a face that she knew yet did not know. It was _his_ face yet not. Contorted in infinite sorrow, the visage flickered in and out as if its own existence wasn't certain.

Yurielle sobbed, a tear fell from her eyes. The droplet fell into the dirt and glittered there like a large diamond, bright and shimmering like a star. “I balance... I light....” was all she could say through the agony, for it felt like her essence was being pulled apart by many forces. Yurielle knew then that she was being drained away, devoured by a ravenous force that was out of control.

That face contorted in rage and fear as he destroyed her.

All else had already been devoured.

She was all that remained.

Yurielle shook her head to try to clear it. Vaguely she was aware that more than one occurrence was happening here. But it was all so abstract and bizarre that she had a hard time focusing. She lay in a bed fighting for her life just as she floated here, fighting for her very soul. In both instances, the gods hovered nearby. That golden visage also floated in both places. One mortal, the other, something that very much was not.

The god's took a step back from her then; their radiant divinity lessened its grip on her, giving her room to breathe. Yurielle's eyes then fell on the glinting star that had formed on the soil below her, her fingers feeling the pulse of life from the dirt that she clenched in her white fingers.

“Krynn,” she spoke the name, suddenly recognizing the life force holding her up among the gods, knowing the name of that ball of dirt and life that she rode on through space, the source from which her weird magic came from.

A face appeared in the soil then, rising up out of the soft surface. The face was a mirror to her own. Long hair flowed around the face, brownish red like hers but tipped in ends of black. The shimmering star that formed from her tear sat upon the forehead, between the faces eyes. The mouth moved and though no words came out, Yurielle felt them come to her as softly as the starlight that now bathed her. “Yes you know me. So many have failed to see me,” the mouth smiled gently. “They failed to know that I am indeed alive.”

“Ariallah?” Yurielle breathed.

“She is here... she is with you...” the voice soothed her and, for a moment, Yurielle felt as if a hand brushed her cheek and her heart blossomed with warmth. For the first time in years, she felt her sister next to her. “She is your balance in death...”

Yurielle sobbed as she reached out to touch the soil that formed her sister's face.

“Child of wild magic... child of moon magic...” Krynn said softly, still wearing that face. “The one who now lights this path...”

“Yes?” Yurielle felt herself say. “What do you wish of me?” her whole attention was on the life force that she held in her hands. The gods around her were secondary now.

The golden visage that watched from afar as well as from within a Tower, was forgotten in that moment and along with it, the feeling of being pulled apart and being crushed halted.

Raising her eyes back to the stars around her, she felt as if something was hesitating as if time itself were observing her.

Waiting, watching... and _wanting_.

Yurielle caught the faintest glimpse of a fast river flowing around her. Its flow split in countless ways. Only one tiny stream held her essence, and it seemed as though the flow was blocked.

Images flashed through the woman’s mind, an understanding reached her as she felt the connection through the wild magic to both heaven and earth. This wild magic she possessed, this weave of power unlike what the gods offered was what bound _all_ things.

It bound even the moons above, even the gods around her.

But it did nothing to the force that was hesitating, not the essence of time itself, and not the river that she was stuck in.

She only had to choose.

Yurielle hesitated, uncertain.

Mortal yet eternal, she felt the heartbeat of the wild magic inside of her. It was the essence of planets and stars, all of which would span eons, but someday dying in their own time. She suddenly understood, the wild magic wasn't given by any god, but rather by life and death itself. It was what it was to _exist_. It was the essence from which gods themselves were forged from.

The ambient was life, life that surpassed time and eternity.

Finally she understood as all of her questions were answered in one heartbeat of knowing.

Yurielle could access this power. This power that was used when the gods forged Krynn, what they used to forge countless worlds and stars, this was what flowed in her veins. Though the ambient magic was faint compared to what it was when existence was created, it was something that bound everything together and it was a constant that just _was_.

She was to bring it into the river, carry it down its turbulent flow. It was time that needed this more than anything. Fate of so much rested on her choice.

Suddenly she knew that it would be the very last thing to be destroyed... for this was the last spark of it on this stream she floated down.

A golden hand filled her thoughts and knowing as the hand in the Tower gently brushed hair from her face. But with that feeling there was as if it were a memory and there was a sensation of being shattered and flung through time, repeatedly in an endless cycle.

The touch within the Tower was gentle.

Its touch here malevolent, but resolved in what it must do.

But the ambient told her that this eternal being was searching but never quite finding.

The right balance was never achieved.

Until this time.

A new flow opened in the river before her then, the weave of magic cascading along the rippling waves. Her eyes watched as the new flow took on more and more ways, splitting and careening off into a multitude of their own flows. The ambient glittered along its surface, dancing happily in this new chaos.

“I... _think_ I understand,” Yurielle smiled now. “But what do you need me for? How am I to aid you?”

“Chosen to balance... so bring balance. Balance that which is alive... balance that which is dead,” the mouth and stars said simply as the face faded away.

Yurielle reached down and took one final handful of soil into her palms, scooping the flickering star up with it. The golden soil fell through her fingers. Again she had this feeling as if the sand, as if she herself, were falling through an hourglass, the golden pinpoints of light fading into the river of reality that now also carried the flow of the wild magic out from where she sat anchored upon Krynn. The wild magic was flooding the planet beneath her.

Finally _something_ could be done now that this new stream opened.

Now that she had chosen.

The sand flowed away until only that one shimmering star was all that was left in Yurielle's palms.

“Light the way through time,” the wild magic whispered through Krynn. “Be. For here is the only place you exist. And here you must give him back what HE does not have...”

The star that had first fallen as her tear began to pulse in her hands. It was bright and golden and beat softly like a tiny little heart.

Suddenly overwhelmed with sadness and love, Yurielle's eyes filled with fresh tears.

She looked up again at the god's of magic.

Lunitari stood before her now, Nuitari had stepped back beside Solinari. The red woman smiled, her lips were bright like warm blood, “We meet again for the first time yet not young magi.”

Yurielle blinked, suddenly remember that this was her Test.

But she had taken her Test already.... hadn't she?

“I told you both that if she walked my path that she would grow strongest,” Nuitari whispered, his voice empty and cracking like bones grinding together.

“Oh dear cousin you were the one to argue fiercest against her walking in your light!” Solinari laughed lightly, it seemed to Yurielle that he shot beams of silver out around him with the sound.

Lunitari sighed, “It was I who knew that she must,” the goddess stated. “Only,” her blood red eyes fell on Yurielle again, “I do wonder what you would have done under my guidance.”

“It matters not,” Nuitari said, pushing his way to Yurielle, those dark void eyes that always caused her pain now glittered at her. “You have walked farther than we thought possible young black robe. The discomfort you have suffered under my light has been worth it.”

Yurielle frowned as she tried to understand. “This is my Test?”

The three cousins nodded to her.

“But... I took my Test. Years ago... didn't I?” she was so confused now. “You were arguing then,” she pointed at the three. “You asked me to light the way...” her eyes were on Solinari as she said this but then shifted to Nuitari, “but I had to walk in darkness to do so.”

“You have to,” Lunitari stated, “in order to get close to him.”

“Wait... him who?” Yurielle asked as the golden sand floated around her, the sparks disappearing one by one through time along with the oily darkness.

The tiny heart beat in her hands.

“What am I supposed to do?!” Yurielle cried in dismay.

“You must change fates path, bring the weave of wild magic back into the world, bring the spark of it back,” Gilean spoke behind her.

“Or die,” the gods of magic said in unison, “for you should not exist!”

Their voices floated around her, vibrated in her very bones. But that tiny star in her hands hummed sadly, its golden light flickering and dancing in her eyes.

 _'I'm sorry... I'm sorry...'_ the beating of it made a rhythm that sang to her.

“HE is giving you this chance so that he would not fail again...” Gilean's words floated to her.

“Wait... what?? He? WHO?!” Yurielle cried, frustrated. She had no idea who they were talking about, yet somehow she felt as if she did. It should be so obvious but it just didn't make sense.

“Because you exist, even though you should not,” the God of the Balance continued, “you have created a flow within the river in which we are all trapped. Krynn has a voice now and you shall sing for her. Her magic, the magic of the weave around us all, is yours to bring back balance with.”

“Our magic is yours as well...” Lunitari was saying now. “Wear what robes you wish, for we all aide you. Though your choice is a powerful message to the others who need remembrance of the balance, for above all, that is what is important. Not the color you bear,” the goddess said gently, her voice was a mix between the other two, light and musical yet grating with its power. “You must walk the wild ways now child. But know; know that we are always here for you. Our tiny spark of hope.”

Gilean spoke again behind her now, Yurielle turned to regard the trinity of the high gods, suddenly knowing that she may gaze on them without harm. “Many have been gifted with the wild magic through the eons, but this time, only you have also been gifted with arcane as well. Both forces are in great flux in this new timeline. Krynn itself, life and death... this new reality is one of unknown possibilities. You must balance the magics around you for this is the last chance to break the cycle.”

The light in her palms continued to beat softly, warmly. _'I'm sorry... I'm sorry...'_

It was somehow... so familiar.

“Break... the cycle?” she asked.

“HE ended the world...” Gilean was saying. He towered over her kneeling form as he eyed the star in her palms. “Krynn was not ready to die and neither was HE willing to devour himself for eternity. So everything shifted when you were born. We gods were given visions from HIM of what had come to pass in _that_ timeline, but that old path is now lost.” He gestured with a divine hand and many flows of the river closed. “We have diverged because HE found the last spark of the ambient... and now all must face uncertainty because you have chosen balance by way of light through the darkness.”

Yurielle stared at the tiny beating star in her palms, unable to quite grasp what the god was saying. None of it made sense to her. Everything about what the god was saying she could feel deep inside of her. But it was so far away. Something so distant it was beyond her mortal mind to comprehend.

Yurielle tried to grasp it. So very hard she tried to understand as she cradled the star in her palms to her breast. Its golden light was so sad yet held such power. There was power both to destroy and devour out of rage and anger. But there was also power to create and harmonize, but only out of love.

But love was something this heart has never known. _'I'm sorry... I'm sorry...'_ it continued to beat.

“You've been so alone...” Yurielle held the star tightly to her chest. “I'll help you...”

The star entered her chest, the beating of it merged with her own heart. _'I'm not sorry...'_ it was her own heart that beat now.

“Give him back what HE has lost... save him this time. Save him from himself. Save him from the past, present, and future that HE is, was, and will be. Only you can do this.”

One by one the gods around Yurielle began to blink out. The last to fade was a being in the far distance; his eyes were hourglass pupils within the cosmos. Rage and anger engulfed her again.

But there was also vast emptiness and sorrow.

_'I'm sorry...'_

Yurielle felt herself explode and begin to vanish into the river of time, being carried away down the one stream in which she existed.

“HE? I don't understand! Who...!” she asked but her voice only echoed in the darkness as she faded away.

Everything began to disappear into a swirl of light and shadow, of color and warmth as she was swallowed in the current.

“WHO?!” she screamed into the chaos.

And somewhere within the vast river of existence, the God of Time faded away as all other timelines came to an end.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy April Fool's everyone! I really needed to post something to counteract all the rampant pranks on the internet today! Hope that finding something that's not a joke brightens your day a bit! :)  
> It's a bit of a mind mess and I struggled a lot with it. But I feel like I achieved what I wanted. Next bit will be posted as usual. See you again in a few days!
> 
> Link to the song I used lyrics for in the beginning of the chapter - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOP_PPavoLA  
> In my mind this is Krynn singing. The haunting, ethereal words and lyrics just seem to capture - to me at least - what the ambient magic is all about.


	24. The Choice is Made

Goldmoon and Raistlin watched as the woman lay before them, her eyes were open yet she did not see them. Magic hummed from Yurielle's body, both wizard and cleric could feel it fill the room.

The power rolling off of Yurielle was both familiar and yet utterly alien to Raistlin as he watched her struggle with whatever force held her. With each frustrating moment that passed, he found that he could still do nothing to help her and so he could only sit and watch helplessly as she grew ever paler in his eyes. Her breathing had become slow and her hand in his was becoming frighteningly cold.

The healing talisman that still lay on Yurielle's chest suddenly flared bright blue.

Yurielle screamed even as her body was awashed with healing light.

“WHO!?” she cried, her voice pierced through Raistlin's brain painfully and echoed deep inside his being.

“Yurielle!” Despite the ringing pain inside his head, Raistlin's hands went to the sides of her face, holding her head firmly in long fingers. “Please come back...” he pleaded as she fought him weakly, his voice was raspy with worry and stress.

Yurielle heard his voice call her through the void that she struggled against and opened her eyes. Finally she arrived back to the present, back in the right timeline where she existed.

The pain of being crushed and ripped apart ceased, replaced with a warm and gentle touch.

“Oh,” she said quietly as indigo irises finally focused on golden. Suddenly there was understanding, suddenly a profound recognition. Her heart fluttered wildly. “It's you...”

Raistlin sighed in relief, those unnatural eyes of his softened. “Expecting someone else Yuri?”

A smile played on her lips as she reached a trembling hand out and touched his cheek. “No,” she replied with conviction as she lightly traced the edge of his face. Her eyes twinkled at him when he didn't pull away from her light caress as she studied his features.

This golden face with so many layers and so many meanings...

Somehow she knew that his was the same face that she had seen among the stars just now. None of it made any sense to Yurielle, especially not in this moment upon first waking as her mind was still spinning with trying to make sense of what had just happened. But his face, his eyes, his _presence_ had been there...

But how?

It seemed like a lifetime ago that the Conclave had told her that Raistlin Majere was seeking to become a god. He had also confirmed this to her himself.

Had he succeeded?

Was _that_ him?

How was it possible!

The paradox of it made no sense as everything she was shown began to fade into a haze that was easier for her mortal mind to try to grasp. Like a dream now fading now that she had awoken.

It was frustrating and frightening and it utterly left Yurielle feeling confused. But then she did the only thing that she knew how to in these situations, she smiled and she laughed. Lightening her heart and banishing the uncertainty and the confusion of what she had just seen with the music that she held inside of her.

Yurielle knew that she must look half hysterical, but she didn't care. She was filled with such peace in that moment. The confused and baffled look on Raistlin's face only made her laugh all the harder as her resolve now was firm as she looked at the archmage.

Yurielle knew that she may not understand completely all of what she had just gone through. She may not be able to fully grasp what had transpired in her Test or why she had revisited it again just now, or why the experience of it was different yet the same. But she was back where she belonged, and whatever she was meant to do, she would not fail.

Her choice had been made.

She would die before she would fail.

As her laughter faded to soft giggles, Yurielle was aware of a presence next to her and the archmage, she tore her eyes away from the hourglass pupils. Turning she beheld a lovely woman who seemed to be bathed in soft blue light sitting next to her. “Oh! Hello! I'm sorry, how rude of me,” Yurielle said sheepishly and wiped her eyes with her hand, trying to calm her laughter.

The woman was watching the two wizards with eyes that were wide and unbelieving.

Yurielle took her hand from Raistlin's face, and he from hers. She felt weak and shaky, but there was very little pain in her body in that moment. As she sat up, the talisman on her chest fell onto her lap. Yurielle took it in her hand and turned it, seeing the infinity symbol upon it she knew, “Mishakal...” she smiled up at the woman.

“Thank you cleric... your goddess answered.” Yurielle handed the holy symbol back to the stunned woman who took it numbly. “Your light was of great aid to me... I saw it and it gave me new hope. Thank you.”

The other woman's eyes blinked and she remembered herself, “You are welcome child. Mishakal gives her light to all who want to find their path.”

Yurielle smiled kindly, “So she does... and she helped me find mine.” Her eyes went back to Raistlin as she said this. The two merely stared at one another for many heartbeats.

Raistlin looked confused. But besides that, he also looked incredibly terrified in a way that Yurielle had never seen before. It didn't show on his face, which now held a carefully neutral expression, but rather raged behind that mirror hard surface of those hourglass eyes.

“You're staring Majere. We talked about this,” Yurielle teased him before she bopped his nose with a slender finger and giggled; the sound wove through the room, dispelling all lingering sickness and worry.

“Tits on an ice hag it's cold in here!” she scowled once her mirth subsided and drew the blankets up around herself awkwardly with her one free arm. “Are you trying to freeze me to death?”

Goldmoon laughed and even Raistlin shook his head as he went to close the window. As he did a great howl echoed up to the Tower from within the Grove. He paused, listening, his eyes roaming the dark forest.

“What has happened?” Yurielle's voice floated to him. “The Conclave...”

“They are still trying to reach you...” he stated flatly as he finally closed the window, cutting off the howl of the arcane-hunter. Turning back to the women he bowed deeply to Goldmoon. “I thank you Goldmoon. You have done all that I have asked. I will return you to your home now.”

Goldmoon's eyes went from the archmage back to Yurielle, “Not just yet. Let me first see what else I can do for her. For I wish to speak to you alone if you do not mind,” she addressed Yurielle directly.

Yurielle nodded and smiled, “I would appreciate if you'd help me take these bandages off. Raistlin's a good nursemaid, but he has a bit of a staring problem,” she winked at him.

He scowled at her but she saw right through it. His usually tight shoulders seemed to relax with her teasing. “As the lady wishes. I shall go see what news Dalamar has.” Raistlin walked passed the bed and paused beside it. With a golden hand he traced the side of her face tenderly, “I will return in a while. Just message me if you need something sooner.”

Yurielle only nodded. Her heart skipped a beat, _'I'm not sorry...'_ Echoed her heart at his touch.

The two women watched the black robed man leave the room.

“It has been many years since I have seen Raistlin Majere last,” Goldmoon began slowly after he had departed. “And I say this to you in all honesty; I have never seen kindness in his eyes...”

Yurielle smiled again and met the woman's bright blue gaze. “I don't think this is the same Raistlin you knew...” she shook her head. So many things buzzed through her brain yet none of it made sense. She felt dizzy and lightheaded, but so very calm that it almost scared her.

Turning back to the other woman she asked, “Goldmoon right?”

The tribeswoman nodded, “Yes. And you are Yurielle?”

“I am,” they smiled at one another. “Pleased to meet you.”

 

***

 

Goldmoon assisted Yurielle to remove the bandages in order to free her arm. Though healed, her injuries were still fragile, her muscles were stiff and aching, her body drained and weak. But Yurielle was alive and free of poison, the goddess only granting her enough so that she could function, albeit barely, for she still felt pain if she moved too fast or wrong.

But Yurielle was still thankful as her mind kept going back to her Test. She had seen the goddess and the other gods too... Hadn't she? She thought that she had been in their presence, but their images had faded vastly, like a dream one can't remember hours after waking. It was frustrating to Yurielle, for her memory usually was so perfect. But, she supposed that there was a reason for this. So she did not dwell on it much for she felt like she could remember what was important.

As the cleric helped Yurielle bathe and dress, the two women got to know one another.

“You were with Raistlin during the War of the Lance?” Yurielle asked as the other woman helped her to wash her hair.

“Yes. Along with my husband Riverwind and the rest of our friends. Together we fought the dragon armies,” Goldmoon replied as she soaped the long auburn tresses.

Yurielle shifted in the warm water as she let the heat of it soothe the aftermath of the fever aches from her muscles. “Will you tell me of him? Of what was he like back then...”

Goldmoon thought for a moment, not really knowing where to begin. “Raistlin Majere always kept to himself. He rarely spoke to any of us besides his twin. When he did, he was curt and to the point, his words usually ominous and full of meaning that only he understood. He never was outright hostile, though he was never truly friendly. Not even with his brother... whom he used and took advantage of endlessly with never so much as a thank you.”

She rinsed Yurielle's hair with a pitcher of warm water that sat next to the tub. “Raistlin always had his own plans, his own ambitions and he always kept them secret. To be honest I avoided him as much as possible, he is of the world of magic. Magic is..., forgive my honesty Yurielle, but I do not understand magic. I am a healer,” she said gently.

“However he was the first to believe the possibility that the old gods had returned. He was the first to understand this fact when we all saw the empty places in the starry sky all those years ago. He seemed almost excited to know that gods indeed had seemingly come back to us.”

“They had never left,” Yurielle pointed out needlessly. She was merely stating a fact.

“No they hadn't,” Goldmoon said kindly. “But mortals had forgotten. Raistlin was one of the first to embrace this... though I've never really understood why.”

They sat in silence for a few moments while Goldmoon finished the other woman's hair. Helping her out of the tub, they dried her and she assisted Yurielle in dressing. Even though Yurielle could move her right arm, it was still painful and she needed help. The wounds on the front and back of her shoulder had closed; the stitches would be needed to be removed soon. But right now the flesh was still thin and tender and needed some time to strengthen. The edges of the wounds red but closed, like an injury with no scab.

“Tell me of him and his twin,” Yurielle said softly. “He will not speak of him... and he gets angry when I ask.”

Goldmoon sighed as she helped the other woman slip her shirt over her body when Yurielle realized that she could barely lift her arm. “That does not surprise me,” the cleric stated. “Caramon is as much unlike Raistlin as the sun is from the moon. Caramon is generous and kindhearted. He is strong and handsome, easy going, trusting and quick to laugh. He'd go out of his way to help his brother, to help anyone for that matter. For the kindness of Caramon Majere knows no bounds.

“Raistlin however....” Goldmoon sighed heavily. “Well Raistlin is Raistlin. He kept to himself. Always preferring to sit by the fire and read his spells. He rarely joined in on conversations, never laughed. When he did it was cruel and cold, a mocking and heartless sound. There was no warmth in the Raistlin Majere I knew, only bitterness and spite. He seemed to be fueled by the need for power for himself above all else.”

“As for the two of them together...” she shrugged, “I'm afraid that Raistlin used his brother for his own gains and took advantage of his willingness to protect him. When Raistlin took the black robes and came to live here,” she indicated the tower around them, “it broke Caramon's heart. Riverwind and I have visited Solace since the end of the War. Those first few years were hard on him...” she shook her head sadly. “He married Tika, the woman he grew to love during the War. Last we saw them she was heavy with another child and he had finally began to sober up. I do hope that they are well and that parenthood has helped him heal from his twin's absence. That was several years ago when we saw them last,” Goldmoon admitted, “I am afraid with the birth of our own children, we have grown out of touch.”

Yurielle listened quietly, her heart sad for the forlorn twin as the other woman dried her hair with a soft towel. She felt as if she could understand Caramon right now, for she could relate to the feeling of abandonment and the shock of suddenly losing your other half. It saddened her heart, knowing that Raistlin had been so cruel to his own brother but somehow, she knew that it was true. She could see it in him, the capacity to push even those closest to him away if it meant a clearer path to get what he wanted.

 _'Will he do that to me?'_ Yurielle suddenly thought.

“What of you Yurielle?” Goldmoon's voice cut into her thoughts. “How is it that you came to be here? Forgive me if I pry.... but I will be honest. To find a woman in the company of Raistlin Majere... to actually see warmth in those cold eyes, it is the very last thing I ever expected.”

“It's... it's not like that,” Yurielle felt herself blush. “Well, at least I don’t think so. We met a few months ago. I visit Palanthas yearly to go to the Great Library to dig through the hidden archives there. I am a curse breaker you see,” she explained. “I am fascinated by them and because I am born with the wild magic... it seems that I have a knack for undoing curses and nullifying the moons magic. I'm still learning about it though.

“I had never seen another soul down there in the crypts below the Library. But one day, someone else visited. Lo and behold it was Raistlin Majere, Master of the Past and Present, Wizard of the Dark Tower,” she said, a smile spreading across her face as she remembered that day. “I found him instantly fascinating for he bears his own curse. Those eyes of his, they bear a terrible yet rare curse and he has yet to let me help him solve it, ” Yurielle shook her head then. “Sorry I tend to ramble,” she smiled at Goldmoon as the other woman helped her get her robes on. “Anyway, I was only in Palanthas a few days. Those remaining days were... not what I was expecting to say the least.”

Her voice grew soft as Goldmoon began to brush out her nearly dry hair, “I understand what others see in Raistlin; the hardness, the cold exterior. His sneering attitude and mistrust for others. But, because of my magic and because I too, took the Test of High Sorcery, I can understand what he goes through better than most other people can. Raistlin paid a high price for his magic. It left him weaker and more dependent on his brother... left him cursed and cut off from the world, isolated within his own heart and mind. Those are feelings in which I can relate to him in more than most. For you see, I too had a twin... only,” her eyes lowered. “Only I lost my twin long ago.”

“I am sorry,” Goldmoon lay a caring hand on her forearm.

Yurielle offered her a warm smile. “What's done is done. But now, I see a kindred soul in Raistlin. One who understands what it is to shut down and live within themselves when no one around them understands them. He helped me see that the Wizards Conclave were just using me, keeping me at the Tower in Wayreth in order to have me close. He opened my eyes to their ways and I learned terrible secrets that they hid from me... I had no one else to turn to Goldmoon. For I have no family, no friends... the Conclave made sure that I had led a life of isolation. All I ever knew was that tower and the other mages there,” she shrugged.

“My trips to Palanthas are among the rare times that I was allowed to leave. Sure I went places with my teachers once in a while when I was still a novice. Those were nice days and I remember them fondly. But now... after I found out what they did to me,” her eyes shimmered at the memory. “I attacked them Goldmoon. I took lives. Mishakal forgive me!” she whispered quietly. “I murdered to save myself.”

Goldmoon laid her hand once more on Yurielle's arm and squeezed gently, offering her support. Yurielle gladly took it and continued her story, her voice stronger now. “I fled Wayreth after that and Raistlin was waiting for me within the forest. I do not understand how... I guess I never asked about it. So much has happened so fast since then that we haven't had much time to even talk to one another. That was only a few days ago that I came to be here, but it feels like a lifetime ago...”

She took a slow breath, “The other day, I went out into the city with Dalamar to buy supplies to replace what I had to leave behind at Wayreth and we were attacked. They shot me with a crossbow bolt. It is forbidden for wizards to use such weapons! The world of magic is shifting and I fear that both Raistlin and I are in the very center,” Yurielle explained.

The other woman listened intently, drinking in Yurielle's tale and thinking about how the man had acted when he came to her to beg for help as she brushed out the other woman’s long locks of hair.

This Raistlin was indeed not the same one she had known all those years back. Goldmoon regarded the woman before her carefully and knew that she was of a good heart. A pure soul that walked a dark path, lighting the way for those lost. Just like Raistlin had implied and, more importantly, just as Mishakal taught. “You are a brave woman Yurielle. I sense the god's working around you. Your purpose is deep and I know in my soul that you have a good heart and that you will endure.”

She clasped the woman's hands in her own. “If ever you need my aid or the aid of Mishakal, I will do what I may to help you on your path.”

“Thank you Goldmoon,” Yurielle smiled and the two women embraced. “You have done so very much already. I hope that one day I can come meet your people, see your tribe, and meet Riverwind and your children.”

“You would be most welcome among us!” Goldmoon beamed. “Do you know that I have twin girls myself?”

“Really?” Yurielle smiled brightly.

“Yes. They are not yet three years old but they are mischievous little things,” she smiled kindly, her heart missing her children but knowing they were well. “So I see the bonds that exist between twins. I have seen how it can poison and through you I have seen how it remains, even past death.”

Just then there was a knock at the door to Yurielle's room. Raistlin appeared through the doorway after she bade the visitor to enter. “Is everything alright?” she asked, seeing the dour look on his face.

“The Conclave and their mage hunters have been hard at work trying to unravel the wards along the Grove. Several wizards have braved to enter. All attempts have failed however thanks to your new pet outside and also from the specters. But I fear their minds are set on taking the Tower in the name of the Conclave.” He came to stand near them.

“I will take you back home now Goldmoon,” he said and turned to regard Yurielle. “I want you to go with her.”

Yurielle's eyes went wide before narrowing to slits, “No. I'm staying Raistlin.”

He began to shake his head and argue but she cut him off. “Whatever stupid plan you and the elf have cooked up is a fool's errand Majere! You need me and my magic. I brought them low once and I can do it again!”

“Do not argue with me,” he said sharply. “They are after the Tower _and_ after you. That poison would have brought you to near death but we believe it would have kept you there until they defeated Dalamar and me. They would then claim the Tower and once again have you. The farther you are away from them, the better. They have seen what you are capable of and they will stop at nothing to get you back!”

“So you send me away?” she asked incredulously. “Where am I to go? What would I do? I'd rather stay and fight them, here on our terms. The Conclave is corrupt; they have lost sight of the balance Raistlin... I must restore it. It is why I breathe.”

“Yurielle,” he shook his head but paused when she came right up to him, staring straight into his eyes.

“I wear the black robes because it was asked of me in my Test... I wear them to bring light into the darkness because the gods themselves know the magic on this world is out of balance. My wild magic is needed in this time of uncertainty...” her eyes softened. “I must do this... for they asked me yet again just now. Krynn wills it, the gods will it. And I have accepted this Raistlin Majere because the balance must be brought back. I MUST light the path for others...” she gently traced her hand along the side of his face and once more smiled when he did not flinch away from her. Her eyes took note of the wound on his cheek and neck, but chose not to ask about them right now.

“I do not fear the darkness and I do not fear them. If they had wanted to silence me, they should have aimed for my heart. What if something happened here? I would have no knowledge or any way to help you...” She then laid that hand along his face now. This time he seemed like he wanted to draw away but he held still as he listened.

“You told me in Wayreth that once I came here to you that only then we could begin our destiny. Your words hold more power than you know, Master of the Past and Present. Until I see this done... I will go nowhere else. I will stand at your side because I have no other place to be. No other purpose but this!”

The archmage's eyes widened a fraction before they closed and he nodded with a frustrated sigh. His hand went over hers on his face, long golden fingers laced with hers. “Against my better judgment, yet again you convince me. This power you hold over me is wearisome indeed...”

She smiled at him then, her dimples flashing, “Whatever power you think that I have, it's only what you allow me Raistlin. I am simply me. Always have been and always will be.”

Goldmoon watched this exchange in awe. She could feel her goddess reassure her that this was the right path and that her time here at the Tower was done. Only a hand full of hours had passed since Raistlin had brought her here, but she felt as if the world had shifted, her views of everything she thought to be true seemed altered. Something vast and unknowing to her mortal mind had happened within this room.

She allowed the two mages to gaze at each other for several heartbeats before she cleared her throat. No look was more priceless than the look of sheer embarrassment that Raistlin gave her, for he had completely forgotten the other woman was even there. His golden skin seemed to darken ever so slightly as he released Yurielle's hand from his and took a step away from her.

“I have children that need to be fed soon. Riverwind is a capable father. But knowing him, he will take the opportunity of my absence to spoil them with sweets. So if you will Raistlin, I would like to return to my people.”

He bowed then, his white hair falling from his shoulders. “Please follow me Goldmoon.” He turned back to Yurielle then, “I will send a message to Dalamar to be along shortly with food for you. You need to regain your strength. We do not move forward with our plans until you are recovered.”

“Yes sir!” Yurielle winked before she herself turned to Goldmoon. “Thank you again my friend.” The two women hugged, “I will visit as soon as I am able.”

“I would love nothing more Yurielle,” Goldmoon gave the other woman a soft squeeze. “May Mishakal guide your path. Farewell!”

Raistlin nodded to Yurielle before he led Goldmoon from the bedchambers and took her back through the roads of magic to her tribe. As before they disappeared from their current location and reappeared back on the planes.

Riverwind stood by, as still and silent as a sentinel, his arms folded and legs planted firmly on the ground right where he had been when his wife was taken away by the black robed magic user. When he saw his beloved flash back into existence he came forward.

“You have returned wife,” he took her hand in his.

“Indeed husband,” Goldmoon smiled at him before turning back to Raistlin who had already backed away to give himself room to teleport back to the Tower. “Raistlin Majere,” she called softly.

The wizard paused.

“You've changed. It gladdens my heart to see it.”

He shrugged, “All things change with time Goldmoon, for it is one of the most powerful forces in existence. And so, I suppose that I am no different to be changed as well...” He bowed then, “Thank you again for trusting in me. I will not soon forget it.” Then after nodding to the silent Riverwind, Raistlin Majere returned to his sanctuary.

When he was gone Riverwind looked down at the woman beside him, “I take it things went well?”

Goldmoon smiled a secret yet knowing smile.

 

 


	25. Would it be so bad?

It did not take long for the dark elf to bring Yurielle the food that the archmage had promised. “So I see that he was unable to convince you to leave, just as I told him,” Dalamar stated as he entered Yurielle's room to find her sitting alone at the table. He set the tray down and she saw that it was loaded with dishes of more glazed vegetables and warm bread. “You look well,” he commented as he sat across from her. “Not so nearly dead.”

She raised an eyebrow at him as she buttered a piece of bread, “Was that a complement Dalamar?”

He smirked, “Don't get used to it.”

They sat in silence while she ate. Yurielle's stomach didn't feel ready for food and she could only eat a small amount, but she did in fact feel more like herself once she had a few mouthfuls in her. “Thank you Dalamar,” she said softly as she finished her small helping. “I owe you my life. If you had not been with me that day...”

The elf waved the thanks away with a slender hand, “I do as my Shalafi wishes. My loyalty is to him and his knowledge of the craft. That he is taken with you is of no matter or care of mine. As long as you do not distract him from teaching me, I care not what he asks of me.”

Yurielle lowered her eyes to her plate but try as she might, she could not stop the blush from blossoming across her face, “You keep saying that.”

“Saying what?” he asked mildly as he helped himself to some bread as well.

“That.... that he's taken with me, that he _fancies_ me. This is Raistlin Majere we're talking about. I doubt he 'fancies' anything besides magic.” Though, she clearly recalled the look in the archmage's eyes when she had finally awoken and could still feel the way that he had touched her face. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the memory.

Then Yurielle thought of her Test as visions of hourglass eyes among the stars came back to her. Vividly she remembered that tiny golden star pulsing in her palm, melding with her own heart and could almost feel it inside of her chest once more, warm and beating in time with hers.

Yurielle did not fully understand everything that had happened while she was asleep. But she knew now that the gods needed her right here within this Tower. Right here beside him and right here to learn about the wild magic.

The gods said nothing about anyone fancying anyone else on this path that she was to walk.

Dalamar chewed the bread thoughtfully for a moment, his dark eyes studying her face. “You can believe as you wish Yurielle. You are right, nothing is more important to him than his power, which is considerable. But I'll tell you this. He refused to leave your side while you lay there injured.”

Yurielle's eyes met the dark elf's. “Doesn't really prove anything,” she said quietly. “He took great care to bring me here and he's intrigued by my magic. If I died,” she shrugged halfheartedly, “it would have all just been a waste of his time.”

The elf stared at her incredulously, “You seem to not understand the impact you have had on his life Yurielle. In the few years that I have been here, there is one thing that I have learned about Raistlin Majere. He is a reclusive and private individual. He keeps to himself and rarely seeks out the company of anyone. There would be days in which I wouldn't see him and, being the good apprentice that I am, I would be forced to message him to make sure he hadn't died in some dark corner around here,” the elf vaguely indicated the Tower around them.

“He rarely shows any type of emotion and so it has taken me a long while to figure out if he's ever in any other type of mood but 'annoyed'. Which, by the way, he usually isn't. But since meeting you... I've seen many new emotions cross his stoic face. That morning, after I had returned to the Tower when you both had first met, already I saw a change in him. As you can imagine, I thought for sure he was up to some new and nefarious plot. Then YOU of all people walk through the doorway into the Library that morning. You can about imagine my surprise when it all clicked in my head what could have happened to change him so fast during the week I had been gone.

“So yes, sweet innocent Yurielle,” a teasing smile played on the elf's lips, this was all amusing him greatly. “I believe without a shadow of a doubt that Raistlin Majere is smitten with you in his own way. He'd never admit it of course, but I'm sure that he's been sitting here in this room brooding for hours about you.”

Yurielle had no words for what the elf was saying as her traitorous skin flared brighter red as she considered his words.

“I'll tell you one thing for certain. The man then sulked like a child for a month after you first left for Wayreth.”

Her eyes widened then. “You aren't serious...”

“I fear that I am. When I made a comment about it he nearly eviscerated me with his eyes and threatened to turn me inside out. I believed him and avoided him for a week before I was certain he wasn't going to murder me,” the elf said flatly. “He's terrifying when he's angry and I've come to know better than to cross him when he's in one of his moods so I simply let the matter drop. Did you see what he did to those wizards in the alley?”

Yurielle tried to think back, she could only remember snippets of that day when they were attacked. Much of it was a haze of pain. She shook her head slowly. The image of a blackened skull, silently screaming flashed into Yurielle's mind. She closed her eyes and shuddered, trying to block the memory.

“Best that you didn't,” he commented. “I'm still trying to forget the sight myself. I know not where he's learned some of the spells that he has at his disposal, but rest assured I do intend to learn some of them myself. So again, try not to distract him too much with your charm,” he gave her a smirk that seemed to indicate she actually had an indication to do so.

“Dalamar you know that I have all the charm of a baked potato,” Yurielle huffed. “Isn't that what you told me once? So even if I wanted to charm your Shalafi, I don't think I'd get very far.”

The Silvanesti elf gave a mirthful laugh then. The sound was melodious and floated around the room. “You've never given yourself enough credit Yurielle,” he grinned at her. “Besides, I happen to know that he enjoys baked potatoes.”

She had no retort for that so she merely rolled her eyes.

“Believe what you will,” he stated with a graceful shrug. “Just don't get yourself killed or tangled so deep that you can't get out if you need to,” he eyed her. “As I stated once before, he is dangerous and I know not what his end game for you is, if any. Though, as the days have gone on, I suspect that even he has no idea anymore.”

After a few moments of silence, the elf stood. “I must go check the Towers wards again. The Conclave and their cronies have been trying to scry inside of the Tower all day. I'm only guessing they figured by now you would have started to succumb to the poison. I'm sure they're trying to plan when the best time to strike shall be,” his eyes were distant as if he were viewing the wards through the Tower's walls.

“You think they'll attack soon?”

He shrugged casually, “It's hard to know. It may be today, perhaps tomorrow, or even next week. I have contacts in Palanthas and even they will not know until they are summoned. I doubt we'll have much warning once they do gather.”

Yurielle sucked in a breath, “I'm sorry...” she said quietly. “I did not mean for this to happen.”

She was surprised to hear the elf chuckle, “Frankly my dear, I relish in the change of pace. Things have never been more interesting around here since you've come into Raistlin's life.” He smirked at her as he left, leaving her to her thoughts.

But try as she might, Yurielle couldn't get past Dalamar's confession of how Raistlin had behaved after they had first met. Did he really 'fancy' her the way the elf seemed to indicate? Certainly there was an attraction there, she wasn't so blind to not notice when a man seemed interested in her. But she had grown so used to their fleeting interests, having been spurned more than once, that she had learned to just ignore it.

Men always had changed their minds once they had gotten to know her. Granted, the only males she had really surrounded herself with were magic users like her. Eventually they would sense something off about her and just... leave her alone. It was as if other magic users were off-put by the energy that she gave off. Sometimes, Yurielle wondered if she had some kind of repellent that did not allow her to get close to others. Sure other wizards were tolerating of her and so she had a few friends like Sarel and his wife, but they were rare exceptions.

Why would Raistlin be any different? After all, they had only just met. Even if she did feel like she knew him, that she understood the archmage on some level, the truth was that he was still a complete stranger. A powerful and dangerous man lurked inside of Raistlin Majere. One that had vast ambition and may or may not be influenced by a darker force...

But then again, there was the simple fact that the archmage had ventured out of his Tower to seek help for her. Raistlin always seemed loathed to interact in anyway with his past, so him going to ask help of one of the other members of the Heroes of the Lance, it was no small thing. And his eyes upon waking, Yurielle will never forget the look within those cursed orbs. He had been beyond relieved to see her open her eyes once more.

Her cheeks flushed deeper and she idly chewed on another piece of bread as she thought.

The gods wanted her here. They told her to give 'him' back what he had lost. When she had opened her eyes, she was greeted by Raistlin's worried face. The gods sometimes were not subtle. Yurielle knew in her heart that they had meant Raistlin Majere.

But what they said about how he was meant to destroy the world and they were now on a new timeline, this she did not understand. She did not understand how she had seen his eyes among the stars, how her own tears had turned into a fluttering diamond of gold that beat like a tiny heart.

Yurielle stood up then, she felt anxious and jittery. None of it made sense to her. Especially not how she had relived her Test again. But yet she knew that it was not the first time she had taken it, the hazy memory she held within herself where the gods of magic had argued and fought over which path she would take seemed distant and nonexistent now... as if time truly had been altered somehow.

She all of a sudden felt as though she was in an endless wheel all by herself. The ambient magic flowing through her seemed to agree and she could not stand still. Going to the window she gazed out, making sure to keep out of sight if anyone was watching from below.

“Are you in pain?”

Yurielle jumped and realized that she was absentmindedly rubbing her injured shoulder as she let herself be lost in her thoughts. She turned to meet those hourglass eyes. They were guarded but also there was still that spark of something that had not been there just a few days ago. Yurielle felt her heartbeat quicken.

“Nothing like before,” she confessed and let her hand fall away from her sore shoulder. “I feel as if the bone is mended, but it feels fragile. Everything is raw and stiff,” she slowly moved her arm to prove her point, demonstrating to the archmage that she had very little range of motion with it yet. “It will take some time to be as it was.”

Raistlin had removed his cloak and draped it over one of the chairs. Leaving his staff propped up against the bookcase, he nodded and came to her side. He moved with a slow, hesitant air as he approached her.

Yurielle indicated the thin line of red on his neck as well as on his cheek when he paused next to her. “What happened?” her fingertips brushed the skin softly. She had noticed the wounds earlier but was more worried about convincing him to let her stay than she was over a few tiny scratches.

“Goldmoon's husband is not a trusting man...” Raistlin replied, capturing her hand in his. “It is far less than I was expecting to receive from him. They are not deep, merely paper cuts compared to what he could have done.” He took a step past her to move the drapes aside with his free hand. He looked out of the frosted glass and gazed on the dark Grove below them. “What do you see Yurielle? Tell me what the wild magic shows you.” Still holding her other hand, he pulled her up next to him, enveloping her in that aura of his warmth and magic.

Yurielle blinked at him, taken aback by his request, for she hadn't even tried to tap into the magic to see what she may. Taking a slow breath she tore her eyes from his face to look out beyond the Tower. She could see that there was a haze outside when a moment ago there was none. Layers of gauzy colors drifted around the Tower in a blanket woven of magic and shimmering spells.

“A complex barrier of spells,” she commented softly. “Layers upon layers of them. Some are _ancient_...” her eyes caught sight of threads that shone golden to her eyes. “But you've reinforced many of them with your own wards.”

“You see them?” he asked, his eyes studying her face as she viewed the magic in ways he only dreamed of.

“Yes...” she breathed, eyes widening as her eyes followed the flow upward and craning her head to view the barrier as it surrounded the heights of the Tower. Above them, the firmament glittered like golden stars against an ancient backdrop of magic. “It's.... beautiful...” she breathed.

So intent was Yurielle at studying the complex weave and so enthralled at seeing how the golden threads wove in and around it that the woman did not notice the way in which Raistlin was staring at her. Golden eyes transfixed on her face, a sea of turmoil raging within them as he tried in vain to smother these new runaway emotions.

He was trying and failing miserably.

Suddenly, a flash of what Yurielle perceived as lightning erupted along the edge of the barrier, down near the Grove, interrupting her and drawing her gaze. Her eyes narrowed, “They are testing the wards,” she watched as the lightning snaked along the edges, trying to find a weak spot through the haze. But the layers blocked it and flung the spells back out.

This drew his eyes off of her and out the window. “I can feel their attempts... like a tingle in the back of my mind,” his voice was low and careful, giving away nothing of his inner struggle. “So far they are just probing and trying to view inside. Any attempts at bringing down any of the wards have failed, for as you can apparently see, the spells around the Tower are very old and complex. Much of the curse that is upon the Tower also protects it from the outside world by keeping others out.”

“What do you plan on doing?” she asked, now looking into his face as he gazed out over the dark Grove below.

“If we can somehow convince the rest of the Conclave that the heads have fallen from grace,” he turned back to her then, meeting her eyes. “Perhaps then we can avoid an all-out blood bath. I'd like to leave the magehood with at least some members to carry on,” he stated coldly. “If it comes to a fight, Palanthas will be under attack as well. I doubt very much that the Conclave wishes this. They will either strike soon and fast once they find a weakness, or they will force us to wait it out thinking that we are trapped here. I've made it seem as if nothing can teleport in or out of the wards. The magic and the curses surrounding us are that thick.”

“But _you_ can,” she suddenly understood.

“Yes.”

“The element of surprise...”

He smirked at her. “If it does indeed come to a battle, rest assured that we will have the upper hand.”

She shivered then under his intense gaze and at the near hunger for a fight that she saw in those hourglass eyes. Tearing her eyes from him she wrapped her arms around herself and turned back to the window. “I did not want this... none of it. I just wanted to be free,” she whispered, her breath frosting the glass before she drew the heavy drapes back over its surface.

Rubbing her eyes she groaned into her hands. “This is all happening so fast... I just need to think. I need time to learn my wild magic better!”

She felt his warm hands on her wrists as he drew hers away from her face. “All of that will come with time,” he stated knowingly.

Yurielle nodded slowly, chewing her lip in thought, she noticed as Raistlin's eyes left hers to watch her mouth. His hands still gently held her wrists, her arms pinned lightly between them as she realized they were leaning towards one another so very slowly. She felt her breath catch when those golden eyes snapped back up to hers and trapping her inside their molten depths. Then, the same as he had in the clearing under the moonlight only a few nights ago, he brushed his lips lightly against hers.

Before she could react, Raistlin drew away from her, his face was a careful mask but his eyes... his eyes seemed filled with some internal struggle that went far deeper than the simple act of stealing a kiss would ever evoke.

Raistlin let go of her hands then and stepped away from her, “I apologize Yurielle...” she could hear him say through the rush of blood in her ears, “I should not take such liberties. I am merely glad that you are recovered. It was...” he sighed heavily, “It was a long few days.”

The archmage looked suddenly weary and tired beyond exhaustion as his hand ran through that long white hair of his as if frustrated by something. He didn't meet her gaze then, instead those usually confident eyes had dropped to the floor.

Once again, he looked terrified.

Yurielle knew that her skin had flushed bright red as her fingers touched her tingling lips. “Raistlin...” was the only word she could manage. Her heart hammered in her chest. Could it really be?! Her thoughts whirled within her, could Raistlin Majere actually _fancy_ her?

“If there is nothing else you require Yurielle,” he turned to leave but paused when her hand lightly caught his arm.

“Do I frighten you that much?” she whispered. “Sometimes when you look at me... it's like you're afraid of me Raistlin.”

She heard him sigh, watched the side of his jaw clench and unclench as he considered his words. He didn't look at her as he finally replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor, “Yes Yurielle, I fear you... both you and your magic...”

“Why?” her heart ached, for perhaps he really was like all of the others.

Again he considered, “You are the first enigma in my life that I have not been able to understand...” He made to step away from her again, but her fingers held tightly to his sleeve, refusing to release him.

Reluctantly he turned to her, “You and your magic,” he began carefully, “are both something that I have never encountered. I do not know what this means for me and what this means for my plans. Are you here to destroy me or to save me Yurielle?”

“Destroy you... or save you?” she repeated back at him, not understanding. Her eyes grew soft as her other hand rested lightly on his chest, over his heart.

He flinched at the contact, but she wouldn't let him draw away. Yurielle had to know if what she was seeing wasn't just her over active imagination desperately looking for the things she secretly wanted.

“Why would I destroy you Raistlin?” she asked quietly. “You, who've done so much for me.”

Raistlin was silent as he considered how to answer. “Nothing good just comes into my life Yurielle,” he said at length. He tried to leave again and once more, her hand on the front of his robe would not let him go.

“Don't run from me Raistlin...” she said softly, seeing him fight within himself, seeing that look in his eyes again. “I won't destroy you... but I can't save you if you run.”

Finally his hand went over hers on his chest, lacing his fingers with her own so that she lost her grip on the fabric. “Yurielle...” he seemed lost in what he wanted to say for several moments. “I do not understand how... Why ARE you here?” he suddenly asked, his voice was firm and demanded that she be truthful.

She blinked at him. This was not a question that she was expecting. “Where else would I go? You yourself invited me... do you not wish me to stay?”

He sighed heavily, he seemed annoyed but Yurielle could not tell if it was aimed at her or at himself as he tried to sort through his thoughts.

“Yes Yurielle. I invited you here and I do wish that you stay. I would like very much to observe you as you learn about the part of yourself that the Conclave tried to hide from you. BUT,” he emphasized the word, “If you are here for my power or for my secrets, or are here for some hopeless task you feel like you need to achieve involving me or my curses, then you will be sorely disappointed in the outcome. And if I find out that you have been less than forthcoming with your intentions...” he left the unspoken threat hang between them.

Hurt shown in her eyes and Raistlin almost regretted his words. Almost. But he had to know, he had to find out why she thought she was here.

“I don't...” she said quietly, her brow wrinkled in confusion. “I don't understand.”

“I'll be more blunt,” he stated, still holding his hand in hers, he seemed to not be able to let it go even if his demeanor had become more cold to her. “If you are here with some personal quest to redeem the irredeemable, then you might as well leave now. For unlike you, I deserve the robes that I wear Yurielle. I chose them. I AM them. I've done things, summoned things, _created_ things that you would have every right to destroy me over. But if you think that you can change who I am by whatever means you feel is within your power, then you might as well leave my presence right now.”

Her eyes widened in sudden understanding and she tried to take her hand from his. She froze when he refused to release her, both physically and with those cursed eyes. They held her, locked within their golden power. They seemed to strip her down to her very core, trying to solve and dissect her intentions. “I don't want to change you Raistlin,” she felt herself whisper meekly. “I... I just want to help you. Not by altering who and what you are... I just want to be here. If that has some effect on you, then I am sorry, it was never my intention to come here and change your world.” She struggled with wanting to tell him the gods had also asked this of her. But something held her back from sharing it, perhaps they didn't want her to tell him, or now just wasn't the time.

One thing she did know for certain was that even if the gods had not asked her to stand beside Raistlin Majere, Yurielle knew that she wanted to be here.

He seemed to accept her words and relax just a fraction.

Now released from his eyes, her own fell on their hands between them. Suddenly she understood the other part of what he seemed to imply, “Raistlin... you think that this,” she idly ran her thumb over the ridges of his knuckles, “Is some kind of secret plan of mine?”

Yurielle looked up into his face again, he seemed conflicted and she couldn't help but smile up at him. “You truly think that I am such a master planner that I set out to worm my way into your good graces? Do you think even I could have foreseen this?” she squeezed his hand in hers to drive home her point.

Raistlin's own eyes then dropped to their hands and he studied them intensely. She could never have guessed how massive the storm was that raged inside of the archmage. He himself did not understand it as he was torn between something like elation, disbelief, fear, and anger. “You are not like me Yurielle,” he felt himself say. “If you are here to help me, to save me...” he shook his head slightly, that cascade of white hair falling across his shoulder. “I know not how you will do this because with a word you could unravel this whole Tower around me. I deserve nothing else.”

“I wouldn't...” she tried to argue. “I promise you that I never will.”

“You could, and you'd have every right to. Whatever this is,” tentatively he ran his other hand along her jaw. His thumb touched her lower lip lightly in passing. “This... infatuation with one another...” he gave another frustrated sigh as her face flushed and reminded him yet again of how pretty she was to his eyes.

“This is more than infatuation Raistlin...” she said quietly. “Stop trying to act like it's not.”

He shook his head stubbornly, “This is only because we are opposite Yurielle. You must understand this. We are both creatures of power, of magic, and we are both focused in our own pursuits. _You_ need to accept this! Our opposition is what causing this!” he said a bit harshly. “It will fall in upon itself Yurielle, for I am only doomed to hurt you just as you will undo me. To punish me for what I’ve done, for the evil that I am. You cannot save me.” His eyes grew distant now and colder, “For try as you might dear Yurielle, you _will_ try to save me. Of that, I have no doubt. But you will fail and I fear that you will be the one to be destroyed...”

Her eyes widened, unable to follow his strange line of thought, “Then why help me?” she asked quietly, her heart clenching in her chest. “Why not just leave me in Wayreth to rot under their lies? Why not let the poison kill me? Why not throw me outside in the snow right now for the Conclave to dissect and do what they want with?”

When he didn't answer she was the one to press on, “You speak of my magic Raistlin... Of how it both fascinates and makes you fear me. But it seems to me that _this_ ,” she laid her other hand over his heart again and leaned into him, “is the reason why you would question why I should stay here...

“You try to keep your distance from me, but you are not repulsed by me like others are... even if my magic does frighten you.”

“Your magic does not frighten me,” he stated quietly.

“Alright fine. Then it's _me_ that you are afraid of,” she retorted. “Me, Yurielle. The lone orphan that didn't have the wits to see what the Conclave was hiding from her and yet you think I'm here to... to what Raistlin? Change you? Why? Sure you're not the most pleasant of people... but you've proven to me more than once that there is more to Raistlin Majere than what the world sees.”

“What does the world see Yurielle?” he asked evenly. “And what do _you_ see that is so different?”

She ignored the first question, for he knew damn well what the world saw and thought of Raistlin Majere. “I see that you act like you want to be alone Raistlin...” she stated and she could feel his posture stiffen. “You seem as if you are content to live a life of solitude. But then there are moments like this when I don't _believe_ you! You keep saying all these words that betray your actions Raistlin. You want me to stay but yet you push me away. You say that you will end up destroying me but yet you did everything in your power to help me.”

She met his eyes in that moment. He was hiding behind that mask of his again, something she was growing to understand for what it was.

A barrier, a shield to keep people out. To keep people away.

“You speak of me trying to save you but I think....” she leaned in then and daringly ran her own lips over his, “that you _want_ to be saved Raistlin Majere.” She murmured into his mouth as he froze still as a statue, “And you are right... I _will_ save you.”

Angrily Raistlin drew away from her as if she had slapped him. “Yurielle...” his tone was low and full of warning.

“Please don't fight this!” she cried, still trying to hold onto him, desperate to keep him near. “Don't run! If you care for me at all Raistlin... as I do you....”

“Stop!” he growled and took a step away from her, his golden mask and cold eyes hardening further. “You do not know what you are saying. What you are asking of me... Of what you ask of yourself!”

“There's that fear again Raistlin,” she whispered as her eyes trapped his. “There's that look I see in sometimes.” She refused to let him look away from her. “You fear being human... don't you?”

The only sound in the room for many heartbeats was the crackling of the fire.

“Would it be so bad... to be cared for?” she asked him softly. “Would it be so bad to let that barrier you hide behind fall? Do you fear me and what is happening between us that much?”

Raistlin could not answer as her questions again flayed him open unexpectedly. For they echoed exactly what he had asked himself.

“We're kindred souls Raistlin. I know this and so do you!” her voice rose as she spoke.

He turned from her then and Yurielle thought that she saw his mask crack. Her words rang truer than she could ever imagine, for he had already solved this riddle. Or he thought that he had.

But the fact that she too seemed to sense these same things...

“Fate has brought us together Raistlin Majere,” Yurielle's words floated around him. Her voice felt like caresses against his skin making the hairs on his body stand on end. “Your magic and mine.... we are meant to change the world. To shape it. Don't you see? Destiny stands before us,” she again touched his arm lightly with her hand and again he jerked at the sudden contact as if she had shocked him. “It's just as you said...”

She plucked at his sleeve, silently asking him to turn back and look at her. “So, would it really be so bad to have someone by your side Raistlin?” she whispered softly. “Would it be so bad to let me in?”

The archmage couldn't stop himself. Slowly he turned again to face her as she pulled him back around. She stood before him, so close to him that he could again lean down and kiss those soft lips. His cursed eyes drank her in, and he was both thankful and irritated that he was able to see her beauty as the firelight was dancing in her hair, glittering in her dark eyes.

With a gentle hand on her chin, Raistlin tilted Yurielle's face up to meet his. “Would it be so bad?” he mused quietly as he gazed at her, his face and words were careful. His mind went back to when he had spent hours trying to answer these same questions within himself.

“To be cared for...” Raistlin murmured. “Perhaps not,” he spoke softly now as his eyes studied hers, his quiet voice barely above a breath.

“Then why not let me get close to you?” Yurielle asked. Those midnight eyes of her pleaded with him to offer her understanding. She just didn't see things the way he did.

“Maybe I do fear being human,” he allowed himself to admit softly as he ran his hand along her face, making Yurielle's skin prickle at the contact.

“But you _are_ Raistlin,” she whispered. “Even if you aspire to godhood...” her voice cracked slightly when she said those words. “Right now though, you are human.”

His face sneered slightly, “Yes, I am human now and I suppose that I capable of human things. But would I end up nothing but a fool for doing so? I will not be the fool Yurielle.” He held her gaze and she watched as those golden eyes softened just slightly, “But, above even that, I do not wish to harm you in any way. We have far more pressing matters to deal with than our emotions right now,” his hand left her chin and his fingertips wound idly around a lock of her hair that lay against the hollow of her neck.

Letting the strand run through his hand like silk, he marveled at its softness. Raistlin's fingers lingered on the golden end of the strand; the irony of its color in relation to his skin was not lost on the archmage. The gods mocked him in every way possible with this riddle of her, for he suddenly felt like she was indeed made for him. Everything about her was for him.

She seemed sincere in her reasons for wanting to be here and willing enough, though reckless it may be, to be here with him.

To be his.

Raistlin only had to accept her and make her his own. Then all of this turmoil within him would end. But somehow, Raistlin knew that it would only be the beginning. Being human was never so easy as that.

“If you want to kiss me...” Yurielle said quietly, piercing his thoughts and drawing his focus back to her. Those large, deep eyes sparkled up at him, heavy with unshed tears. “Then do it Raistlin. If not... then I suggest you go get some sleep. You look like shit.”

He smirked at her, “Your bluntness is always refreshing Yurielle.” The archmage closed the small distance between them suddenly.

“If I do kiss you... what then?” he breathed. “To what end Yurielle? Am I to make you mine?” his silky voice was both hypnotizing and dangerous. “Claim you like you're something that I have any right to have? Do you think that would that make me fear you any less? Would claiming you make me any more human than I am right now?” his words quickly turned dark and bitter. “As if I'm deserving of your affections Yurielle. For if you truly understood even a fraction of what you are asking for... you would soon realize the folly of your thoughts.”

No coherent reply came to the woman's mind for Yurielle was frozen by Raistlin's words and his tone, by the intensity that she witnessed in his eyes.

So instead of doing or saying anything, they stared at each other in unbearable silence, the air thrumming around them, their bodies were so close that each could feel the barely contained restraint of the other as the current of want passed between them.

Yurielle started chewing her lower lip again, her eyes pleading with him to kiss her. But she had no words to express her want.

Raistlin's eyes snapped down to observe her white teeth worry at her soft lip. The archmage felt captivated by the nervous habit of hers as he battled with _wanting_ to kiss her. He found that he wanted very badly to chew on that lip himself.

“I just want you to kiss me Raistlin... for now,” she breathed. “We don't have to do anything else. It doesn't have to mean anything but a kiss.”

Her face flared bright red as he pressed his lips to her forehead. The contact was brief but reminded her so fully of the night when he had warded her that her knees grew weak.

“Rest Yurielle,” his voice was tight with restraint as he pulled away from her. “I will return later after I have slept and have my thoughts back in order. You have a way of getting under my skin...” His fingers ran down her arms then, lightly touching her hands and fingers as if he couldn't help himself as he drew away. “Regardless of this folly, do know that I am glad you are recovered,” he said softly, his eyes and voice now gentle and sincere as he turned to leave.

Yurielle watched him exit her chambers. As he did he quietly gathered up his cloak from the chair by her table as well as his staff before he left.

Raistlin never looked back at her as he shut the door.

Suddenly weary and tired, Yurielle went to her bed and lay down, too exhausted and confused to think. Her shoulder throbbed and she could feel the stitches pulling on the tender new flesh. Tears stung her eyes as she buried her face into her pillows, trying very hard not to think about what had just happened.

Of course, she was failing miserably at that.

Perhaps she was just infatuated with him as he claimed. He was the most powerful wizard on Krynn after all. A master of secrets and power, Raistlin Majere was an alluring mystery to any who would be brave enough to try to unravel him. But, Yurielle realized, that there was indeed something more to it than that. Something vast had grown between them in just the past few days.

One thing she was sure of was that the gods wanted her here with Raistlin. They wanted her to help him. But how? She couldn't grasp it yet. Was she supposed to free him from the dark force that was intertwined within him? They had told her to return something that he had lost...

What did this new timeline need so badly from Raistlin Majere that only a mage of the wild magic could return to him? How as she supposed to help him if he kept closing himself off from her?

Yurielle felt like she had all of the pieces of the puzzle. But there were so many. So many fractured sections that drifted around her like those grains of golden sand she had seen in her Test. For it had been her Test... Yet it was not the same. New things were said, new elements had been seen.

None of it made sense! Why did she see his eyes and face among the stars? What had been trying to destroy her?

So many pieces! Yet none of them fit into any understanding in her mind.

Yurielle curled into a ball on top of the covers, taking long slow breathes to try to calm herself. Raistlin had been right the other day, everything was happening so fast. She was overwhelmed and this new version of her Test was not helping her keep her thoughts in order.

Neither were these emotions that suddenly refused to be ignored when she looked at the archmage's face. For she could see, or at least she thought that she could see, the same emotions surface behind that stoic mask he wore.

She was finding that she was growing to have feelings for the archmage. He had been on her mind nearly nonstop since they had first met but Yurielle had just brushed it off because he was such a fascinating and different individual. But not anymore. She knew that this was now going far, far deeper.

Yurielle groaned in irritation. Now was not the time for this! There were people outside right in this very instant who wanted her dead or captured. Her whole life was no longer as simple as it once was. So much had changed that day when she fled Wayreth. When she had learned that everything she thought she had known about the Conclave was a lie, that they had killed her family.

She didn't mean to return to Raistlin Majere... but somehow he had found her and brought her back here.

Why? Why even bother if he was just going to ignore what was happening between them?

He acknowledged that he was 'infatuated' with her. Dalamar had stated that he saw this within the archmage as well. But this was Raistlin Majere, Master of the Past and Present, she reminded herself. He didn't need a reason for the things he did.

Yurielle's thoughts whirled inside of her head and the more she tried to think of something else, the more she was pulled under by them. She was supposed to stand next to him, the gods had asked her to and she knew that she _wanted_ to stay here with him.

He had kissed her and had done so more than once now. Was this part of some purpose that _he_ had in mind? Or was his infatuation truly more? The look in his eyes just now... she knew for certain that there was far more than infatuation smoldering in those hourglass orbs.

Yurielle knew that people found her attractive but she was just a nobody. An orphan, a silly girl with a stupid crush on a man that could kill her easily. Her arcane magic was weak compared to his, her wild magic far from understood. There was no reason for him to do what he was doing, no reason to even think that he was growing feelings that were anything more than sexual for her.

Then she had to ask herself. Was she just to be another idle pursuit of some man bent on only one thing? More than once she had been down that road. More than once her heart had offered another love only to find that all they had wanted was a quick physical moment of satisfaction. That, or once they caught wind of just how strange she was, they disappeared without so much as a goodbye.

Would Raistlin Majere really be any different? She honestly had no idea, for he seemed to refuse himself even the basic of human affections. He seemed like he didn't want to even acknowledge that there may be more between them than just infatuation.

But he _had_ come to her aid more than once now. He had spent hours by her side when she was injured, he had personally tended to her and treated her with kindness and tenderness. Then, when it was discovered she had been poisoned, he had left to find help. It was no small thing for him to seek out someone from his past as he had.

The icy thought tickled in the back of her head then. Was it Raistlin... or was it Fistandantilus who did this?

There was so much about that dark entity and the link the two mages shared that she did not understand. So much about it that frightened her. More than once Yurielle had wondered who was in control of the man before her, so often did his mood shift, his words suddenly change, those eyes darken unexpectedly.

Again she wondered, is it the man or the lich who was infatuated with her?

Who did the gods really need her to save?

Yurielle shook her head, burying herself farther into the pillows as if hiding. She didn't want to think about it anymore. She just wanted to fall back to sleep.

Thankfully, sleep claimed her quickly.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been learning to draw digitally. The whole process is completely new to me but I am loving it! I hope you enjoy my sketch :) I just had to capture that moment between Yurielle and Raistlin and I feel like the adding the text made it pretty powerful. What do you think?  
> There will be more drawings to come in future chapters and I will also be going back and adding to previous ones once I finish them.  
> Also as a side note, I have been going through and doing a decent edit of many of the first chapters. This whole story is a constant work in progress and I'm always striving to make it better. Thank you to everyone who has been so encouraging to me with your comments. Every bit of feed back helps me to improve myself as a writer and an artist. If anyone wishes to contact me, you may reach out to me at silver_glass01 at hot mail dot com.


	26. Golden Threads

It was howling that awoke Yurielle, tearing her from restless sleep. The howl was a cacophonous sound that floated up the Tower to her window and hovered in the quiet space, echoing from somewhere deep within the Grove. On and on the cry rose and fell, raising every hair on Yurielle's body as she jerked to sit up on her bed, the sudden movement caused her to hiss through her teeth at the pain in her right arm and shoulder.

“You shouldn't be sleeping on that arm yet,” a voice made her nearly jump out of her skin and she almost fell off the bed as she whipped around in a tangle of blankets, arms, and legs.

“Gods asshole Raistlin you scared the shit out of me!” she exclaimed at him from where he stood near the window. His black robes had blended in completely with the curtains, concealing him except for the row of golden runes embroidered along the hems. They glittered at her in the dim firelight and she could feel the power of intense defensive and deflective spells rolling off of them even at this distance. “I'm really getting sick of you scaring the wits out of me you creep!”

Raistlin let the curtain fall back against the window with a quiet chuckle before turning to face her.

“Do I need to start locking my door?” Yurielle asked. Rubbing her shoulder, she untangled herself from the blanket that she didn't remember putting over herself when she had lain down. “Not that it would stop you...” she grumbled as she looked around the room. Books now rested on the nightstand next to her bed and a black robe lay across the chair nearby. From the firelight she could see the same runes stitched into its hems, only these were empty of any power. “What time is it?”

“It is nearly morning,” the archmage replied as he added a new log to the small embers in the fireplace. With a flick of his wrist the fire blazed up in the hearth, brightening the room and chasing away the slight chill that had crept in.

“Morning?!” her eyes widened in surprise. Yurielle knew that Goldmoon had left around noon. If he was correct, then she had apparently slept the whole day and night away.

Raistlin nodded as he pulled his hood down away from his face, freeing that cascade of long white hair. It fell smoothly down past his shoulders like a river of molten frost and silver. “I came to check on you last night to find you sleeping. I returned every so often only to find more of the same. Your body needs to rest and recover. This is to be expected, even after being healed. Though,” he cocked his head to the side with an amused smirk, “I didn't expect that you sleep like the dead Yurielle.”

“And you stayed why?” she asked, feeling petulant. Raistlin seemed to be in a better mood today but she definitely was not. “You came to stare no doubt. You know it's weird when you do that...” she rubbed at her temples trying to ease the ache in her head.

Watching her, Raistlin reached into one of his pouches on his waist and pulled out a small glass jar. Coming to her side he held it out to her.

Yurielle eyed him as he approached, feeling suddenly wary of him. His constant wringing of her emotions last night had left her feeling cautious and confused. Sleep had done nothing to banish any of her inner turmoil.

Raistlin took notice of how she stiffened at his approach and halted a few feet away. He held the bottle out at arm's length towards her. “Willow bark,” he stated as the small pills inside rattled slightly.

Standing, she reached out to take it with a mumbled, “Thank you.”

He nodded and went to the table and poured some water into a glass then held it out to her the same way. Taking it, Yurielle emptied the glass and handed it back to him. Raistlin returned it to the table.

The awkward silence stretched on.

“Why are you here Raistlin?” Yurielle finally asked as she rubbed her arm in an attempt to get feeling back into it. “You came to check on me but it looks like you made yourself at home...” she indicated the spellbooks and other items that were recent additions. “I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me anymore. I don't need a caretaker.”

She heard him sigh softly.

“I know that you don't,” Raistlin replied, eyeing her just as warily as she was him. He stood now near the corner of her bed opposite her. He seemed to be keeping the object between the two of them in order to have some distance. His arms were folded in front of his body, each tucked into the opposite sleeve of his robes.

“I came to apologize... for earlier,” he said softly. “I do not wish for any misunderstandings nor resentful feelings between us. Now is simply not the time for...” his voice trailed off.

Raistlin looked torn, confused, and strangely defenseless despite the spells woven around him.

“I understand.” Yurielle looked away from him to the fire before too much color rushed to her face at seeing him be so open. “You have nothing to be sorry for Raistlin. I should be the one apologizing to you. You were right the other night. I'm overwhelmed and in pain, my state of being is compromised. I shouldn't be thinking about anything else besides healing and learning to control my magic better for the upcoming confrontation with the Conclave. I pulled you into my mess and put a target on you and your apprentice's backs. I'm an outsider here, nothing more.”

“Not an outsider,” his voice cut through her thoughts. “I meant what I said Yurielle. You are welcome here. To stay as long as you like after we deal with the Conclave. You may continue on here if you wish it. Either as my apprentice or merely to live here, this Tower is now your home if you want it to be.”

“Then you believe that I'm not here to corrupt you with my feminine wiles?” she shot at him, sounding more irritated than she actually felt.

Raistlin couldn't help but scoff and gave half an eye roll until he stopped himself. Composing himself, he met her gaze, “Your feminine wiles have nothing to do with this Yurielle,” he stated flatly. “I find that despite your bossiness, recklessness and temperamental outbursts, I do enjoy your company.”

“Some would say those fall under feminine wiles,” she countered and couldn't help but smile at the small upward tug she saw at the corner of his mouth.

“I want you to stay,” he said softly, after a few moments. “It doesn't have to mean anything more than that.”

She swallowed hard and nodded. Raistlin had echoed her request for a kiss right back at her, skillfully dodging any further discussion on the matter. He was right; they had other things to worry about besides their emotions right now.

But Yurielle still wanted to ask him so many questions and there was still so much unsaid between them. She felt as if things were still so unclear. What about the other things they had discussed as well as avoided last night? He thought that she was here on some secret agenda of her own and he was in a way correct about that. Only the agenda that she was on belonged to gods, not wholly to her.

He said he wanted her to stay and that it didn't mean anything more than that. But, if he was using her frame of words she knew inherently that there was more to it. Did he want her to stay for a reason that had yet to come to light? Was there some reason other than wanting to watch her learn her magic that the archmage wanted her to stay for?

Was it Raistlin or Fistandantilus who enjoyed her company?

She wanted to ask these questions and more. She wanted to talk to him, to figure him out. But Yurielle knew herself well enough that she was far too cranky right now to bring any of this up. Not to mention that in this moment, she didn't trust her own emotions and feared she may say something that would make things worse or more awkward than they already were. For now, she bowed to his seemingly silent request to not talk about it anymore. The fact that he was here right now, apologizing, was enough.

“If I do decide to stay as... as your apprentice,” she struggled with the word, unused to the idea of it. “I will do my best to keep up with you and Dalamar... but I do not enjoy casting black magic. It pains me.” Yurielle thought a moment as memories from her Test drifted back to her, “However the Gods of Magic spoke to me when Goldmoon was trying to heal me. Lunitari stated that I may draw from all three of them if I so wish it...”

Raistlin's eyes widened slightly. “That is no small gift from them.”

She nodded, “I'm not sure how that even works... I will need time to learn to balance it all with the wild magic.”

“What better place to learn than here?” Raistlin asked with an open spread of his hands. “I am of an open mind and eager to see how you would do this.”

Yurielle, still rubbing her arm, stood in thought a moment before continuing, “I'm NOT going to call you Master. Your ego is inflated enough as it is!”

Despite himself, Raistlin smiled at her jest. His face softened just slightly and he lowered his eyes for a moment but they slowly came back to hers, as if shyly drawn back to her face.

Yurielle smiled at him then, suddenly feeling far less irritable. “You should smile more Raistlin.”

“So you've said,” he cleared his throat. “You talk in your sleep,” he stated to the unasked question on her face.

“I do not...” she felt a blush prickle across her skin again. Her eyes narrowed slightly as he chuckled and slowly paced back to the window, the howls outside had stopped.

“What else did I say?”

The archmage shrugged teasingly as he pulled the curtain aside slightly, the faintest line of light illuminated along the side of his face, indicating that dawn was close at hand. His golden eyes scanned the Grove and the city line for a few heartbeats before he let the fabric go once more.

Yurielle grumbled something about the moodiness of archmage's under her breath as she went to the chair and picked up the robe that Raistlin had brought her.

The archmage turned and was watching her but remained silent.

The robe was heavy and well made. Yurielle noted as she examined the robe that it was far better than anything she could ever make or afford. Sewn of thick velvet and lined with dark blue satin, it was durable yet flowing, cut for a woman’s shape. Running her fingers over the embroidered runes she marveled at the craftsmanship of the stitching. The threads were not gold like she had originally thought. Instead they shimmered iridescent at her, pale and shifting in color as if the thread were made from pearls.

“It's for you,” his voice sounded next to her now. But like with the bed, he kept the chair between them. “Your first task,” he indicated to the pile of books nearby on the nightstand, “is to enchant the runes yourself.”

“Where did you get this? I mean... how... what?” her eyes met his now. “You're giving me tasks...? I haven't agreed to be your apprentice yet.”

“Neither did you say no,” he stated with a wry smirk. “This Tower has many rooms. They were once occupied centuries ago, their inhabitants fled before the curses were laid upon it. They left many things behind,” he explained as he indicated the robe in her hands.

Yurielle let the fabric fall through her fingers back to the chair.

“You do not like it?” he asked, a slight hint of disappointment in his voice.

“It's beautiful,” she said. “But it belongs to another woman... someone long dead. I will make my own.”

He nodded and lifted the robe back up to her, “And so you shall. But until then, you need protection. These runes are perfectly stitched and only wait for their enchantments. For you to start from scratch will take more time than we have to spare Yurielle.”

She sighed and took the cloth from him, their fingers brushed as he handed the robe back to her. “Thank you,” she said simply, her face coloring slightly from the innocent contact of their hands. “What are these?” she indicated the spellbooks now.

“All the books from within the Tower containing any mention of wild magic that I could find,” his hand waved over several ancient looking tomes. “Though, I will admit, the library of Fistandantilus seems sorely lacking on the subject.” He then ran his hand over a smaller stack of books, “These contain spells for enchanting runes. I assume you have studied such things, though I did not see any books as these in your own collection. You may use mine,” the cover of a black spellbook flashed at her as he lifted it. An hourglass shone on the front, gilded in gold.

“Yours....” she breathed in awe as he held it out to her. Gently he lowered it into her waiting hands, his eyes studying her reaction.

Yurielle gasped slightly as the book touched her fingers. The soft suede cover of it tingled with power and magic. HIS power and magic. “You honor me... Master,” she bowed slightly.

The word made him freeze, “You said you wouldn't call me that.”

Yurielle shrugged, running her hands over the cover of the book. “Would you prefer that I call you Shalafi?”

“No,” he answered curtly, “I prefer that you would call me Raistlin...” he stated as he watched her pale hands. He found himself unexpectedly enthralled at the tender caress of those hands along the soft leather. His eyes were fixated on her fingers while she touched his personal spellbook, one that he had spent months crafting. So very delicately those long fingers traced the runes and hourglass. Raistlin's forearms ached with phantom memory of her touch from all those months ago when she had explored his skin in the exact way she was touching the book.

The archmage was forced to take a slow, steadying breath to calm the sudden rush of blood to his ears as he side stepped around her. “I will have Dalamar bring you up some food so that you may break your fast,” he said as he crossed the room.

“Where will you be?” Yurielle asked, taken aback by his sudden fluster.

“Below the Tower,” he replied, pausing at the door, “in the Chamber of Seeing. I must discover what our friends outside are doing.”

“Chamber of....?”

“You have other tasks sweet Yurielle,” he interrupted as he opened the door. “No kender adventures today. I will seek you out later and I expect to see some progress with your runes,” with that he turned and left.

 

***

 

Dalamar arrived some time later with a tray of food to find Yurielle sprawled out on the floor of her room surrounded by books, notes, and the new robe that Raistlin had left her. The elf arched an eyebrow at her as he set the tray on the empty table. “Do you need a desk brought in?”

“Nope,” came her reply from within her curtain of hair draped around her lowered head as she went back and forth between the books and her notes, writing furiously. “Fine like this.”

“Black moon help us...” he grumbled as he carefully picked his way back to the door through the mess of opened books and papers. “What EVER are you doing anyway?”

“Cross referencing wild magic and the spell theories of rune enchantment,” she said mechanically without giving him so much as a glance.

“Why? Just enchant the runes and be done with it!”

This time she did look up at him, “And you call me the simpleton. I'm not interested in regular enchantment. I'm learning how the magic is physically woven into the runes. I've already enchanted and disenchanted these multiple times,” she indicated the robe by her side. “Next I'm going to attempt to do it with my wild magic...” she paused when she saw the incredulous look he was giving her, as if she had sprouted two heads. “What?!”

“You cannot enchant let alone disenchant runes of power so quickly!”

She glared at him, “I'll disenchant yours if you want a demonstration elf!”

His eyes widened, “Mine? You could do that?”

The woman shrugged “I believe so yes. I'm getting pretty good at nullifying magic from a distance. With the right frequency I'll be able to unweave most runes. The trick is focus and....” she trailed on and on unphased while the elf’s eyes became large and hazy. He was completely not following her wandering human mind with his strictly linear elven one.

“Is there a problem?” Raistlin's voice cut through the one sided conversation that Yurielle was carrying on with herself.

Dalamar slowly turned to regard his master who stood in the doorway eyeing the mess on the floor. “She's crazy Shalafi. There is no way that she can achieve what she claims.”

“Yurielle was able to see the threads of a telepathy spell and tap into it, able to reverse a truth spell and amplify it to affect three great minds of the Conclave with little effort. You question what else she may do?” Raistlin asked evenly.

The elf's mouth opened and closed several times but he could not find the words. Instead he settled on saying, “If her nonsense gets us all killed.... I will be sorely upset!”

Yurielle laughed then. Her voice was high and musical as both males watched in fascination as the runes on the robe that she had pulled onto her lap began to flare brightly. The woman laughed and laughed until tears stung her eyes. She laughed both from the looks on their faces and at the exultation she felt as the wild magic surged through her.

The two men had to close their eyes when the light that permeated the room became almost unbearable as Yurielle finished her spell weave. With a contented sigh she ran her fingers over the runes and watched them sparkle. “There... I think that will do nicely,” she smiled to herself as she felt the varying runes.

Dalamar's mouth hung wide open as he slowly tore his eyes from the woman on the floor to his master. Raistlin met his look with a smug one of his own.

“We live in a time now of great magical flux apprentice,” Raistlin stated. “Either fear the change or embrace it.” He looked at Yurielle now, admiration shone in his eyes. “I have a feeling that she is just the first of many like her.”

“None of this is possible!” the elf stuttered. “The magic can't do that!”

“The arcane no,” Raistlin admitted. “But our magic is the same and shall always be as long as the Moons hang in the sky Dalamar. Krynn now offers its own power to those select few,” Raistlin said. “Krynn's untapped magic needs a focus. Only we know this. And only we know that Yurielle is the fulcrum between ambient and arcane. The Conclave and the other wizards will be utterly blindsided by her true power.”

“They'll come to over throw us! There will be war....” panic sounded in the elf's mind as he thought about the waves of mortals wielding wild magic, offsetting the arcane and plunging the world into chaos.

A scoff sounded from the floor where Yurielle sat, listening to their interaction. “Someone needs to balance you wizards!”

“Balance!? This is madness more like!” the elf shot back as the woman stood up.

Putting the robe on over her regular clothes Yurielle straightened it around her. She had to take in a few seams here and there so it fit better. It was a bit too long yet, but it flowed around her in perfectly places pleats that accented her shape nicely. The two black robes watched as she drew the hood up over herself and the runes flashed and she disappeared.

A giggle sounded at their wide eyes and suddenly she reappeared behind them in the hall as she lowered the hood again. “Ooooo that's a neat side effect I wasn't expecting! Apparently all I need is to focus the strands of the elements to mimic what a spell does!” she grinned at them. “I had the smallest thought of how great it would be to have misty step in this...” she ran her fingers along the runes. “Oh! There... this one holds that spell. See?” she held it up to their incredulous looks.

Her face scowled as the rune went suddenly dark. “Well that's a bummer... one use huh?” She gave them a playful grin as she lifted the hood back up and disappeared once more. “HA! Invisibility still works!” They could hear her exclaim as a suddenly Dalamar's hair was flicked off his shoulder as she ran past the elf back into the room.

“Dammit all!” she swore when she suddenly appeared next to the table with a piece of bread hanging half from her mouth. “I'm going to need to figure this one out...” she grumbled. “Do you think it has a time limit to be used or does the wild magic just not hold itself in items?” she asked to herself as she shoved the whole piece into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully, her eyes on the runes that started fading along the hem.

Dalamar was red faced and wide eyed. “I need a drink,” he stammered and turned to leave.

Both the elf and the woman paused when a sound that neither one had ever heard started to fill the room. It was at first a low rasping sound, but it quickly grew louder as it forced its way out of the archmage.

Raistlin was laughing.

Not just his usual quiet chuckle. No, it soon grew into an all-out belly laugh as he stood in the doorway nearly bend double from his fit, his tight hold on the Staff of Magius was seemingly the only thing keeping him upright. He laughed until his gut ached and his eyes watered as the seconds passed. Every time he dared looked up into the dark elf’s face; the blank expression there sent Raistlin back over the edge into a renewed fit of raspy laughter.

Finally Raistlin regained his composure as his chuckles subsided and he started to cough. It wasn't a bad spasm, nothing like what he used to go through. His lungs never could handle too much exertion and they were now trying to get his breath back under control after an act that they were not used to. Raistlin hadn't laughed like that in decades and his body had no idea what was going on.

“I'm glad you find this so amusing Shalafi,” the elf declared, clearly offended. “If you need me, I'll be in the wine cellar.”

“Bring me up a bottle!” Yurielle called after him. The elf responded with a rude gesture over his head as he descended the stairway.

“He's just pouting. I don’t think his elven sensibilities can handle this paradigm shift in his reality,” she said to Raistlin who stood in the doorway still dabbing at his eyes with the edge of his robes and quietly chuckling to himself.

“It was worth hearing you laugh though,” she smiled at him, her dimples deepened as she plopped a small piece of cheese into her mouth. “Join me?”

A faint smile still tugged at the corners of Raistlin's mouth as he slowly picked his way around her scattered papers and came to the table to sit in the chair next to hers. His eyes scanned the mess on the floor for several moments before he asked, “My spellbook?”

“Don't worry it's not on the floor. I would never disrespect it like that,” she indicated to the table near her bed where the black book could be seen next to the older ones regarding wild magic. “I'm finished with them so you may return them to their homes.”

He looked at her now, “Done? You've read them all?”

She nodded as she poured some cider into a glass.

“I've only been gone a few hours Yurielle,” he stated.

“I'm a fast reader Raistlin with a perfect memory. I only need to see the page and I can pull the information that I saw from my mind... What?” she blinked as his face turned questioning. “Everyone looks at me like I have tentacles coming out of my nose! No one ever believed me when I would try to explain myself and this is what got the Conclave into the trouble they're in to begin with I'll remind you,” she shook a piece of cheese in his direction. “Maybe Dalamar is right and I am a bit crazy...” she paused when his hand covered hers on the table.

“You're not crazy,” he stated. “Just... different,” Raistlin gave her hand a squeeze before drawing away once more.

Yurielle smiled at the casual contact, “Oh that's much more reassuring. Many would say the same of you archmage!”

He only shrugged in reply as he helped himself to some of her lunch.

After a few moments of eating in silence she asked, “Did you learn anything in the Chamber of Seeing?” She was curious of this place and what it might entail. Anything that had to do with magic always sparked her inquisitive nature.

Raistlin took a sip from the glass of cider they shared to wash down the bit of bread in his mouth before he spoke, “They seem to have pulled back away from the Grove. I suspect it has to do with the fact the black moon will be full soon. They wish not to act while our power is highest.”

“Makes sense,” she agreed. “But why was the arcane-hunter howling this morning?”

Raistlin shook his head slightly, “I know not. I couldn't see anything to indicate a reason and I'm not about to go outside near it. It's taken a liking to living within the Grove, but it doesn't like arcane magic remember? I'd be a tasty snack for sure.” He looked at her then, “You were inside of it... controlling it after you were attacked?”

She lowered her eyes and nodded, “Somehow yes, I was inside of it. I'm not really sure how I did it. It happened when the bolt went through me. The pain,” she closed her eyes at the memory. “I just wanted to be elsewhere... and I was touching the beast at the same time.” A horrified shudder went through her, “I remember the taste of blood... of crunching bones. I tore people apart with my claws.” She was staring at her hands as if they would sprout the same claws at any moment.

The archmage had no reply for that.

“She is such a sad creature....”

“She?”

Yurielle smiled a hollow smile, “Yes, she was once a living dire wolf. A proud huntress of her pack, but she was captured with them and turned into that...” she shook her head. “I offered to end her pain but she refused.”

“You talked to it... her?”

“Yes. It was strange to do so but she is intelligent enough to make her thoughts understood. She seemed confused when I dropped my invisibility spell and called upon my wild magic. She was... almost drawn to me then,” her brow furrowed. “More mysteries I suppose.”

“You seem to have an abundance of those,” Raistlin stated.

“I'm a regular cornucopia of weirdness,” Yurielle rolled her eyes. “Tell me something I don't know. To be honest, it's growing a little weary. I miss the days of good old honest curse breaking.” She looked at him then, “Speaking of which, we never did get around to figuring out your eyes.”

The archmage blinked at her, “What about them?”

Yurielle leaned closer to him and arched an eyebrow. “Don't you want your eyes back Raistlin? Don't you want to see people normally again? Don't you want to see....” her voice trailed off. The unsaid 'me' hung heavy in the air between them.

“I've grown used to my eyes,” he tried to shrug off her unfinished question and ignore the tiny flicker of hurt that he saw flash in her irises.

“I find that hard to believe,” she was looking at him, staring at his eyes with hers, studying them. “Won't you at least let me...” reaching a tentative hand out, she stopped when he pulled away.

“There is no removing this,” he stated, not harshly but firmly. “Do you not think that I have tried?” he asked bitterly.

“Then what harm is there in me just... understanding it?” she asked with her hand still hovering between them. “If not for your own sake,” her voice lowered, “then at least give me the peace of mind in knowing that I gave it an attempt.”

He took a slow, irritated breath then nodded ever so slightly, “Very well, if you insist. Only if you promise me that you will let the matter drop once you realize there is no breaking a god curse.”

Yurielle pressed her mouth into a thin line, “Fine. I promise. But,” her eyes started to twinkle and a grin spread across her face, “if I find any hint that this is something that we can indeed remove... then I want you to at least _think_ about it. I won't make you promise!” she said to his scowl. “I just want you to consider it.”

Again he sighed, “Yurielle, forgive my bluntness. But have you given any thought to the fact that perhaps beauty is a distraction? Perhaps we all need to be reminded that we are mortal, that our last form is of rot and decay. No outer shell that we wear can change that fact,” he explained. “I see everything as it is meant to be. Nothing can hide from death.”

The thought disturbed Yurielle and she tried her very best to hide it. But Raistlin saw the flicker of horror, sadness, and disappointment in her eyes before understanding filled them. “You would say something like that...” she said softly then began to draw her hand away as if giving up on the whole situation.

He surprised them both by catching her wrist. “But if it will satisfy your curiosity then very well. If only I can then say that I told you so.”

She could see that it was part dare, part apology, part curiosity on his part. Yurielle scowled at him this time, but it wasn't a very convincing one. “If I wasn't so dang curious I wouldn't look into it just to spite you!”

“I'd say you were a cornucopia of curiosity not weirdness Yurielle,” his smirk widened into an almost smile.

“Did you just make another joke Raistlin Majere?!” she laughed. Then, with her other hand, motioned him to sit forward again. “This won't hurt... much.”

“God's help me,” he replied dryly as he leaned towards her.

“I'm going to need to touch your face,” she stated, for some reason not sure if she was allowed to or not.

Raistlin seemed amused, “You do not need to ask permission Yurielle.”

“I just wanted to forewarn you archmage, you get so jumpy when I touch you,” she teased.

“I do not get 'jumpy',” he glowered at her.

Yurielle offered a playful smile as she scooted to the edge of her chair so that their knees were touching between them. He was once again wearing that careful mask and even though he had given her permission, he still seemed tense.

Ignoring his discomfort, Yurielle very gently lay her hands on either side of Raistlin's face so that her palms rested over his cheekbones, fingers splayed over the sides of his head and thumbs up along the bridge of his nose so that they touched between his eyes.

Oddly she wasn't distracted by the fact that she was touching his face, nor of sitting just inches from him. She also wasn't distracted by him as she starred into those strange orbs. Her inquisitive nature took over so that whatever else was between them did not matter in that moment.

Carefully she studied his irises. They were like molten gold with tiny flecks of darker gold within the rings. She watched as the hourglass pupils twitch when he focused on her face in return. They would dilate ever so slightly as he stared back at her. Yurielle knew that his eyes caused most people to stare in fear and quickly become unnerved. But not so with her. She found them strangely beautiful. Then she remembered what they did to him, what they made him see, and it made her sad.

No matter what unspoken things may be happening between them, she would always be nothing but a dead withered husk to him. Shoving those thoughts from her mind she returned her focus on what she loved doing, solving the unsolvable. This curse was nothing compared to her curious mind and she was determined to unravel it.

“The curse of Raelanna...” she murmured softly, leaning in closer to him. “That is what you called it correct?”

He nodded in her hands. “Called thus for she was the only other known to bare it.”

“I found very little information about her when I returned to Wayreth,” she stated, her eyes still studying his. “All I could find was that she was being punished for her hubris and vanity... forced to watch everything around her wither away. It was hoped that she would learn compassion,” Yurielle said quietly, her eyes focusing on him directly now instead of peering through him.

“I assure you that I deserve these eyes Yurielle,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“What could you have possibly done to deserve this curse?” she asked quietly.

Raistlin looked at her but made no replay. The memory of the screams made by his twin filled his mind as he killed his likeness out of rage and jealousy during his Test. Quickly Raistlin shoved the reminder from his mind.

“Have they taught you compassion?” she dared asked. She was certain something flashed inside of his mind. It was a deeply held secret of his, one that she knew would never see the light of day.

“No,” he replied. His voice was low and devoid of emotion from the rawness that memory stirred inside of him.

She froze at the hard word spoken icily at her. “I know you'll scoff, but I'm still going to say that I do not believe you. Now hold still!” she commanded and nearly jerked his head back to look at her when he started to move away. “I'm not done with you yet you grump! If you don't want to tell me why this was done to you... Then fine. I'll respect your secrets Raistlin,” she said more gently. “Though, you need to realize that whatever triggered it is probably the key to undoing it.”

Those eyes tightened slightly and she knew that he was getting irritated but she ignored him. “Close your eyes,” she commanded. Raistlin obeyed and Yurielle lightly moved her hands so that her palms now rested over his eyes, covering them.

Closing her own eyes she focused now on the feel of his skin on her palms, how his eyelashes lightly brushed against her own skin. The warmth he always gave off, even now, radiated up her arms. Yurielle could feel the magic there humming softly at her and she focused on the strange discordant note of the curse that now vibrated beneath her hands.

It was unlike anything she had ever felt. The weave of it was deep. Layers upon layers of spells and magic were laid upon his eyes. Some were so deep she knew they ran past his physical form, deep into his emotional one, probably to his very soul. Dark weaves of curse magic flowed around Raistlin yet there was a tiny thread of gold in there that was like some sort of tether that stretched out far past his being.

It was not a part of the curse... but something that seemed like it was trying in vain to fight it. Or, in the very least, hold onto something.

Like with his skin, it seemed to Yurielle that Raistlin had unconsciously attempted to thwart what was being done to him. But, try as she might, Yurielle could not understand what the thread did or why it was there for it seemed ineffective within the curse itself. It was just a tether of gold stretching deep from within him outwards but she soon lost track of it.

Yurielle knew that she didn't dare touch the layers of the curse with her own magic. This part was always uncomfortable when dealing with such things because she wanted so badly to keep digging through the layers. She wanted to follow that golden thread and see where it led her, curious to see what sort of thing he possibly would be holding onto seeing. But the woman had learned long ago to be careful or she may find herself affected as well.

The more she observed the curse's weave, the more she realized this spell was powerful and strange. Ancient and of a magic she rarely had ever encountered. Yet, as she observed it, parts of it seemed so familiar to her.

Focusing on the essence that remained behind by the one who had cast the spell, Yurielle felt her whole body go numb with shock as suddenly she recognized it.

The caster had not been a god!

Yurielle brought her hands back with a gasp. “NO!”

Raistlin blinked at her as his eyes adjusted to the light in the room. He watched Yurielle's own eyes darken and he saw anger in them. “What?”

She looked at him, fury flared in those usually tender eyes of hers. “No god did this to you Raistlin...” her voice was low, trembling.

The archmage gave her a confused look, for she looked furious. “If not the gods, then who? Don't tell me I did this to myself like my skin.”

“No...” her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath. “This spell is ancient. The magic used in this weave is very, very old. I honestly believe only one man alive would have access to this spell.”

Raistlin's own eyes darkened, “Who?”

“Par-Salian.”

The archmage sat there before her, frozen. “He wouldn't dare...” he growled.

“A white robe dabbling in ancient, forgotten, and forbidden black magic Raistlin... Par-Salian did this to you! Not the gods!”

“You are certain?” he asked, taking her hands in his.

Yurielle nodded, “Yes I'm afraid that I am. All magic that is cast holds an essence of the caster inside of it so I can sense the wielder who wove the spell. It's why I can see your wards and know that you made them. If I know the person then I can recognize their essence. You,” she felt his hand in hers and ran her thumbs along them, “your essence I see as gold threads or of sparks of golden light,” she flushed slightly then met his eyes again. “But the essence I sense around your eyes, it does not come from a god. It belongs to Par-Salian, I am sure of it. I grew up around the man. In some way's he was the father I never had.” Her face grew dark, “But he is a man of lies. He did this to you!”

Yurielle could see the anger now growing in Raistlin's eyes, could feel how tense his hands were in hers as they began to tremble with his rage. She could feel the intense heat of his wrath boil off of him in waves. She tightened her grip on his hands to try to offer him an anchor, “He is unfit to be the Head of the Conclave. They are all unfit for what they've done to us.”

“Can you remove the curse? Can he?” he suddenly asked, now looking meaningfully at her.

“No...” she shook her head sadly. “I'm sorry but I cannot. It runs very deep Raistlin. It goes far past your physical eyes. It's woven into your emotional body and into your soul. Only you can undo this spell. I fear if I try to alter it, you may be blinded. But,” her brow creased, remembering the golden thread, “I believe you have done something... there was one tiny, golden thread of your own woven in there.”

He looked at her, trying to understand what it was she could have seen. “A thread?”

She shook her head, “I do not understand what it means and I did not want to delve too far. But I think you tried to counter the curse with something unconsciously, just as you threw up your golden shield against Fistandantilus. There must be something that you hold out hope for... something that connects back deep inside you right down to your very soul. Something only your eyes will be able to see. The tether seems attached to something but I can't follow it very far. But I guess when you do finally see what it leads to, perhaps then you'll know what it means?” she shrugged and squeezed his hands again, trying to offer him some solace that there was something he would find someday that would ease his curse. This gave her hope for him and she added a tender smile as well when his eyes widened at her words.

Yurielle wasn't prepared for him to pull her close to him, right off of her own chair and suddenly onto his lap. His arms wrapped around her, crushing her to him. “Raistlin....?” she asked quietly, for she could feel him tremble slightly.

The archmage had closed his eyes and buried his face into her neck, into that curtain of rich auburn hair, as the rush of feelings flooded him. He breathed slowly, savoring her scent of spell components, of herbs, spices, and the soft comforting scent of her hair. In that moment, Raistlin Majere was overcome with emotions. “Yes...” he said low in his throat, his breath warm on her skin making it tingle. “Yes I will know when I see it,” Raistlin's voice was raw as he whispered the words.

Yurielle was frozen in that embrace, her heart thudding in her ears. She was confused and flustered by this sudden and unexpected show of affection from a man who had repeatedly insisted that now was not the time to further any more of their 'infatuations' directed at one another. But here she was, encased in his warm arms, his breath tickling her neck as he held her close. Raistlin held her closer and more tenderly than he had ever done.

“Raistlin?” she asked again as the silent moments stretched on.

Slowly Raistlin was able to rein in his emotions as he released his hold on her and drew his face away to sit back in his chair. Yurielle met his even gaze, his hourglass pupils were large and dilated and she realized that his cheeks were slightly flushed, tinted a darker shade of gold.

“I apologize...” he mumbled and shook his head as if to clear it. “You awe me Yurielle. The things that you see... What you discover with such little effort. I...” his eyes softened to pools of warm, luminous gold. “I wish I could see the magic as you do. You are unlike anything I have ever thought possible!”

Yurielle turned in his lap so that her body faced him more. Her hand tentatively went to the side of his face again. “I wish I could help you with your curse,” she began but froze again when he took that hand and pressed her palm to his lips.

“You are Yurielle, more than you know,” Raistlin said softly against the skin her palm, his eyes rose up again to meet hers. Those cursed eyes were wide, as if he himself were shocked at what he was doing.

Yurielle couldn't hide her blush nor the fact that her breathing had increased. “Raistlin...” she whispered nervously. “You know that you're taking liberties again. I hope you realize that you're giving me mixed signals. You said that now was not the time...”

Slowly Raistlin released her hand; he was mere inches away from her face as he silently studied it. Those orbs drank in everything about her. From her smooth skin dotted with rusty freckles across her checks and nose, to the rosy flush of her skin, to the pert curve of her lips and large liquid eyes that shimmered at him.

_'Would it be so bad?'_

No. No it wouldn't.

He sighed then and said in a low voice that made her heart flutter, “I'm Master of this Tower, therefore I get to break my own rules!”

Time froze when he fully pressed his lips to hers, covering them in soft warmth.

Yurielle couldn't react, so surprised was she. But as her mind processed what was happening, she soon began to respond to his lips with hers as she relaxed within his embrace. A slow, careful dance of their mouths began and neither seemed like they wished to stop this new step they had taken.

Raistlin groaned low in his throat when he felt Yurielle's tongue tease his lower lip, the sudden thrill of the tantalizing touch made his head swim. Instinctively he pulled her closer to his body as she deepened her kiss, her hands had grasped both sides of his head and her fingers were trailing through his scalp, adding to the assault of new sensations. Yurielle gave her own small gasp when the archmage gently bit her lip with his teeth in response, silently begging her for more.

A small thud interrupted them followed by Dalamar's amused voice, “I'll just leave this here then. Looks like you two may need it!”

The two broke apart and Yurielle stood hastily, her face so red her ears flamed as she watched the dark elf smirk at them.

Dalamar turned to leave the room, having deposited the bottle of wine that she had requested on the table next to them. “Shut the door next time and leave a sock on the knob if you don't want to be bothered,” he commented with a sly wink as he closed the doors behind him. “Have fun!”

“Ass...” Yurielle growled at the retreating elf.

Behind her Raistlin cleared his throat and stood from his chair. Fingers of one hand rested on his lips that held a pleased, if somewhat embarrassed smirk of his own. His eyes twinkled as he beheld Yurielle's own embarrassed face.

The woman gave him a befuddled look as she turned to him, her ears still red and eyes bright. Silence and electricity stretched on between them until she finally broke it. “Now what Majere? You've stolen your kiss and now Dalamar,” she hissed the name, “is on to our 'infatuation' as you call it. He's never going to let this down!”

“Don't worry about Dalamar,” Raistlin waved the name away like it was a fly buzzing around him.

The archmage gazed at Yurielle who had diverted her eyes from his and was absently rubbing her right shoulder, her gaze far off and cheeks still flushed. He studied her and thought about everything they had spoken about last night as well as considering what she had just discovered.

 _'Would it be so bad?'_ her questions again echoed in his head.

Raistlin was indeed in a better mood today. Better in fact than he had been in a long, long while. Especially now.

After leaving Yurielle's room yesterday, the archmage had forced himself to go directly to bed as he was very close to collapse himself. Surprisingly he had fallen asleep as soon as his head had hit the pillows and he had slept for several hours. He couldn't remember dreaming, but yet had the sense that he had and he woke up feeling strangely lighter. Finding that he had slept nearly ten undisturbed hours, it was then that he decided to come apologize to Yurielle.

She hadn't answered his knock on her door, nor his repeated gentle call of her name. At first Raistlin had thought she was sulking or ignoring him, but after several minutes of silence he had grown worried. So eventually the archmage decided to just open the door and enter her room. He had found her curled into the fetal position on top of her bed. She was asleep, yet she didn't seem like she was resting. Opposite of him, her dreams seemed troubled. Retrieving an extra blanket in which he then covered her with, Raistlin then took the time to look though her own spellbooks and notes, curious of what he may find.

Much of it was unreadable to him as it was written in that strange language of symbols and squiggles that she kept her secret thoughts written in. Her spellbook was a simple tome, filled with the usual spells that he expected. But to his surprise, Yurielle had written very few spells that she could use as a means of attack. He had eyed her then, thinking again at how opposite they were. His spells were mainly ones of destruction, while the majority of hers were for protection and reversal. It was then he had made up his mind about having her enchant the runes and begin to really see what her limits were.

But now, the day had gone in a completely different direction than what he had planned!

“How is your arm today?” he asked, his mind coming back to the present as he changed the subject and lightly touched the shoulder in question.

Yurielle jumped ever so slightly, not from pain, but from the electrical force humming between them that sparked at the contact. Being pulled out of her reverie she blinked at him. “It is improved but the stitches pull. I'll remove them when I have the chance.”

“You won't be able to reach the ones on your back...” he stated, running a hand over the wound that he himself had widened over her shoulder blade. He couldn't stop touching her but the memory of blood and bone invaded his mind unbidden and unwanted so he dropped his hand away.

“I think you underestimate my flexibility archmage, I can bend like a carnival contortionist,” she stated but her eyes widened when he himself blushed slightly at her salacious comment. “I mean.... I'll manage...” she stammered and grabbed the wine bottle and uncorked it. Pouring herself a glass she quickly drank it.

He arched an eyebrow at her, “You have a tendency to drink when you're flustered. Is that such a wise course of action Yurielle?” he teased her lightly. “Considering you're such a light weight when it comes to substances.”

“I'm not letting good elven wine go bad,” she finished the glass and poured herself another. “It's not my fault that I'm flustered...” she paused as he took the filled glass from the table before she could drink it. “You and your liberties are what are positively flustering to me Raistlin Majere!”

She eyed him, her own mood now irritated again after the elf’s interruption. It had brought back everything that they had and had not discussed last night. Their conversation then had left her with the distinct impression that the archmage was refusing to even allow himself to accept that there may be something growing between them.

Today however.... it seemed as if Raistlin had changed his mind. Either that, or Yurielle just had no idea how any of this really worked and it was annoying to her that he seemed to be toying with her.

Raistlin grinned slightly before he took a sip of the wine and eyed her over the rim. “Well, flexible or no, those stitches need to come out. You can attempt the endeavor by yourself or while you have someone here to assist you. The choice is yours,” he set the glass on the table between them, his eyes seemed to glitter as he waited for her response.

This sudden realization that he could see her because he had willed himself to be able to was fascinating to Raistlin. Suddenly this made him bolder than he ever thought possible as he reveled in this new fact. He had denied an archlich complete destruction of his soul by erecting a magical shield around himself and apparently, he had denied Par-Salian from taking every ounce of beauty from his world.

Perhaps... perhaps there was something about Yurielle and the destiny that they had spoken of. Perhaps indeed somehow, all of this was meant to happen.

Still, the archmage had a hard time accepting it. It simply was too good to be true.

Regardless, Raistlin still reveled in this not so tiny secret that he kept from her. He still couldn't fathom exactly why he had somehow been able to hold back the curse in this type of way. But he could see her, and she was beautiful. This teasing game they played with one another was positively the most fun he'd had in a long, long while.

Yurielle pursed her lips at him, trying to gauge the neutral expression on his face and of what he was really trying to achieve here. If it was to fluster her further, he was succeeding greatly. “Are you flirting with me Raistlin Majere?” she asked, turning the tables on him.

A master of manipulating others, Raistlin didn't skip a beat, “I suppose that I am Yurielle. I enjoy seeing you fluster. And stealing kisses is far more fun than I ever had thought it would be.”

'Why not let myself enjoy this?' this was the only thought in Raistlin's mind.

If the gods were indeed mocking him, then maybe he could let himself have a bit of fun while they did. Their banter did not need to lead to anything more, he did not have to make himself vulnerable or weak to enjoy her presence.

Her eyes narrowed at the smug smirk he had on his face. Two could play at this game. What did it matter? She was only a corpse in his eyes.

“Fine,” she began to undo her robe and watched his eyes go wide even as her own skin flushed red. Throwing the robe over the back of the chair she sat down backwards in it, her legs on either side of the back rest, her front facing it. Gathering her hair around one shoulder she pulled the edge of her shirt up her back and over her head, but didn't remove the fabric as she held it bunched up on her arms against her chest. She half turned to him, “Well archmage? Get on with it! I haven't stretched in days so I doubt my contortion skills will do me much good right now and since you offered so nicely...”

The archmage was standing there, still as stone. He was not expecting this!

His golden eyes drank in the perfect sculpt of her bare back marred only by the six inch line of black stitching that lay across her right shoulder blade. Her skin was flawless, creamy white with its pleasing blush that made the sparse freckles stand out along her shoulders.

Raistlin suppressed a gulp. He realized that she was toying with him now, seeing how far he would actually go. Yurielle had no idea that he could see her, had no idea that this golden thread she saw led right to her. In her own theory, _she_ was what he was holding out for and she had no idea how this teasing drove him crazy!

She didn't know, but he would take every single moment that she unknowingly gave him. Raistlin decided then that would play this game, and he _would_ see how far it would go. Why not allow himself this one thing his unconscious mind seemed to have given him permission for?

Yurielle talked of destiny, of how they were to change the world.

Raistlin knew that he could not be without her presence beside him.

_'Would it be so bad?'_

“Hmph,” he grunted as he removed his dagger from its sheath on his forearm. “You think you're feminine wiles will even work on me dear Yurielle?”

She shrugged those lean shoulders of hers, the muscles of her back moved languidly as she shifted in the chair, waiting silently for him to either back down or get on with it. He watched as that delicious blush spread up her spine.

Black gods he was going to need more of that elven wine and a cold bath before this night was over!

Pulling the second chair up behind her he sat down, “All I have is my dagger. Don't move or I'll be sewing you back together for a second time,” he commanded in a voice he somehow managed to keep even and steady. His eyes focused on the healed wound, willing himself to not look any other place on her lithe back. With deft and steady hands, he cut several sections of the black thread with the sharp tip of the dagger. The thick threads came undone and he pulled them from her skin with small tugs. “It scarred,” he commented as he pulled the last section free and dabbed the small wells of blood away from where the threads broke the skin with a handkerchief from a pocket in his robes.

Yurielle turned and looked down at her shoulder blade best she could, “Maybe I have a thing for scars. It'll make me look tough!” her eyes met his at that moment and she froze. She never, not in a thousand years, could have ever have thought she'd see him look at her like that. Golden eyes blazed as they met hers, his pupils blown wide and intense, the golden skin of his cheeks were slightly flushed, tinted with a red undertone.

Raistlin Majere couldn't stop himself, eyes locked with hers he gently and very, very slowly, ran his left hand down her spine. The effect was better than he was hoping for, for Yurielle shuddered under his careful touch.

Yurielle couldn’t help it as her back arched ever so slightly against his hand, her eyes closed, her lips parted and a very small sigh escaped her. His touch felt as if he had trailed warmth and electricity along her spine.

It was... marvelous!

Raistlin's hand ended right above those lovely dimples at the edge of her leggings at the base of her spine. He hesitated then, unsure of what to do next, so his long fingers curved around and rested on her hip. Gods he wanted to touch her more and she seemed to _want_ to be touched he realized with suddenly clarity.

But did she truly or was he taking his liberties too far?

“Yurielle...?” he asked his voice low. “Is... this okay?”

She made a small whimpering sound, “Yes,” she breathed, her eyes were closed. “Please do it again...” _PLEASE!_

Captivated by her response, Raistlin removed his hand from her flushed skin and was about to repeat the action.

Yes... he would see how far this went.

There was something undeniable happening right now. Be it lust or something more, the archmage was going to figure it out.

He was going to solve this riddle.

That slender golden hand hovered just inches over the porcelain surface of Yurielle's skin, ready to repeat the soft caress when suddenly a tremor seemed to rock the very foundations of the Tower itself.

A howl from the Grove pierced the air.

 The Conclave had arrived.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a confession.  
> I'm addicted to cliffhangers!  
> *grins mischievously*


	27. The Conclave Comes

“Fools,” Raistlin growled and replaced the dagger back into its sheath as he stood up. His eyes were far off as the tingling in the back of his head intensified to a dull throb.

“What?” Yurielle was at his side, looking at him worriedly. Her cheeks were still flushed bright red from his touch. “The Conclave, are they here?” she was readjusting her shirt after hastily throwing it back over her head.

Raistlin nodded gravely. “They're trying to bring down the wards...” he stated, his eyes meeting hers. “I'm afraid the wine and your feminine wiles will have to wait. The fools act when the black moon is nearly full. It's time to press our advantage.”

With one quick motion Yurielle corked the wine bottle that still sat open on the table and gave him a dimpled smirk, “To celebrate our victory! I'm ready. Let's go,” she said as she gathered up the new robes in her hand.

He shook his head, “You need to stay hidden. They do not yet know that you are healed...”

“NO!” she cut him off and was already marching to the door, her robes a flurry around her as she donned them. “Let them be surprised. Let them fear the fact that I am well. I will ride out on the arcane-hunter to meet them. You and Dalamar will appear behind their line or next to me when it seems right.”

Raistlin grabbed her wrist when he caught up with her by the door. “Yurielle,” he said carefully, “I don't think...”

“Trust me Raistlin,” she beamed at him. “You said so yourself, they will not be expecting me. It's best to use me as a surprise. Just seeing me might unravel their own plan!”

“Have you ever been in combat?” the archmage asked.

Yurielle paused and blinked at him, her smile evaporating. “Well... no.”

“Exactly,” Raistlin stated. His grip was still firm on her wrist as he pulled her back to his side and looked into her face intently. “We do not know exactly what they are planning nor do we know how many stand against us. I will not allow you to go out by yourself!”

“Raistlin,” Yurielle tried to soothe, “I probably know every single one of those mages out there. They've watched me grow from a child to what I am. Even if they've never really felt comfortable around me, they have no reason to hate me. So unless the Heads of the Conclave have somehow completely poisoned them against me, I doubt very much that they will outright attack me on sight. They want me...”

“Yes they want _you_!” Raistlin cut her off. “And they'll use you to get to me. This Tower must not fall into their hands as the Conclave stands now, and I won't put you in danger to protect me nor it!”

Her eyes went to his hand still holding onto her before they met his gaze once more. “Raistlin,” she said softly, laying her hand over his that still held tightly onto her wrist. “Please trust me. I have to face them by myself. If we go out there magic all blazing on the offensive then people are going to get hurt.”

“People are going to get hurt regardless of what you try Yurielle,” he warned. “People are going to die today.”

The Tower suddenly shook again as if to emphasize his words and cut off any further arguments. Yurielle took the opportunity to free herself from his grasp.

The archmage scowled and was forced to take a step away from Yurielle as an aura of white light edged in dark blue surrounded her when she opened herself up to the wild magic. The woman sighed as she closed her eyes and brought forth the air in the room to shield her like she had at Wayreth.

Yurielle smiled, “Interesting... It's like the ambient magic bends the elements to what I desire of them. I think I’m getting better at this!” Another explosion sounded from outside, the Tower shuddered again. “The wards can't take much more of their spells. We must hurry!” and with that she raced down the steps, taking three at a time, her hair and robes flying madly around her.

Raistlin couldn't keep up with her as they descended the stairway. Her long legs and healthy body quickly outdistanced him. Irritated, Raistlin merely spoke a word of magic and appeared at the base of the steps right as she reached them.

Before Yurielle could comment on Raistlin's cheating, Dalamar appeared through the doorway that led into the foyer. The elf was dressed in his own rune warded robes. Yurielle could see the dark elf's magic around him as a bright vibrant green.

“Shalafi, they are attempting to enter the Grove...” he said as he eyed the woman who seemed to glitter oddly before him.

“I know,” Raistlin stated. He coughed slightly, being winded from the effort of chasing after Yurielle.

“We stick to the plan?” the dark elf asked.

“No,” Yurielle cut off any reply Raistlin may have had. “I go out. You two appear when I give the signal,” she was saying as she made her way towards the door, lifting the hood of her robe up over her head as she did.

“Yurielle...” Raistlin warned but she ignored him. Reaching the doorway she turned to face them. Giving the two other black robed wizards a smirk and a wink, she opened the giant heavy doors and exited the Tower before either man could stop her.

“Bossy isn't she?” Dalamar stated as the woman disappeared out into the frigid winter day.

Raistlin watched as Yurielle marched out the door, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

 

***

 

Yurielle stepped out into the chilly winter air and let her shield drop to a shimmer so that it would appear to a common observer as if the snowflakes around her were catching the cold suns light. Taking a deep breath, she tasted the air. Crisp and cold, the early afternoon was overcast with low, thick clouds that threatened snow. There was a stillness to the city that seemed unnatural and empty, the air itself hummed with powerful magic.

A smile slid across her face. Yes there was the arcane magic given to her by the gods that she could feel. But she felt everything else as well. Yurielle felt the life of Krynn beneath her feet and she felt death billowing off the Grove. She felt the weave of spells around her and could hear its song.

Looking up at the Tower's heights with the wild magic coursing through her, she saw the shifting of the wards that looked cracked like glass that had been hit with a rock but not broken. It would not withstand another hard strike like the ones that had rocked the Tower. To her senses she also felt that the outer edges of the wards were falling. If the whole thing came undone, there would be nothing to stop the Conclave from coming for them.

“Not on my watch,” Yurielle stated as she walked across the courtyard toward the gate and saw that on the path before her, on the opposite side of the gate, a figure mirroring her own was coming in her direction.

For an instant she felt her sister's presence. Ariallah was there in death. But before Yurielle could react to this realization, the arcane-hunter walked up behind the apparition, dissolving it as the beast came to a stop on the path and regarded Yurielle with its vacant eyes.

The woman smiled at the undead beast.

The gate swung open as she neared the twisted metal. “Hello again friend, thank you for staying,” she laid a pale hand on the dark fur of its muzzle. The hideous smell of rot and decay rolled off the creature as it whined softly and nuzzled her hand. “You've been a good girl?” she giggled as she scratched the beast behind the ear, earning her a pleased whine and twitch of the creatures back leg.

“Yurielle,” she heard his voice and she turned towards it. Raistlin stood outside of the Tower.

With her eyes Yurielle saw that he had cast himself to be invisible, but in her state, connected to the wild magic, she saw him. His spell danced around him, like a webbing of soft gold.

He was beautiful to her as his magic glowed in her eyes.

“Trust me Raist,” she said again and gave a smile meant only for him.

Raistlin's heart thudded in his chest as he watched Yurielle mount the undead beast. Awe and dread both coiled inside of him as she rode down the dark path atop the dreadwolf. The mists and ghosts within the Grove floated around her and seemed to follow her as she rode and disappeared into the dark shadows beneath the tortured trees.

 

***

 

The shadows coalesced around Yurielle's shield that she had surrounded herself with as she passed down the main path out of the Shoikan Grove. “Easy friends,” she said quietly to the angry spirits throwing themselves at her with abandon. “You will have your feast. Aid me this day...”

The arcane-hunter growled low in her throat as they reached the end of the path.

With her eyes Yurielle could see the wards that extended around the Grove. It was like a huge dome of glass and it was cracked in many places here as well as up near the Tower. The thick blackness that the Grove itself gave off, as well as the ancient spells woven by Fistandantilus and other powerful wizards she knew nothing of, hummed back and forth along the edge. Raistlin's reinforcements and own wards glittered like golden stars and rivers of light.

If she wasn't in peril, Yurielle would have just liked to sit and stare at it. Watch how his magic danced along the surface, glittering golden against the vile works that came before him. Of course, she realized that this was merely how _she_ interpreted the magic. For someone else it may be opposite, the ancient magic may glow beautifully while Raistlin's may look like ribbons of darkness... she had no idea. But to her, his magic was simply enchanting to gaze upon.

A testament to his power and mastery over the craft, Raistlin's spells bound the ancient ones together and filled the gaps. Like sand though cracks in the street, his magic filled the spaces in between. But here in the very front of the Tower, where the path led out into the city, Yurielle could see the wards had suffered massive damage. Giant cracks splintered the spell work like cracks in an eggshell. Outside she could see sparks and focused energies bombarding the shield as the combined efforts of the mages on the street outside were attempting to counteract the ancient weave of magic and bring it down.

Through the cold mist of the Grove, Yurielle saw dozens of mages standing outside of the barrier, they were silent and standing ready and at attention as she approached through the mist. These mages were so close that they could physically walk through the barrier and into the Grove, but they held back. The barrier was protection against magic, against scrying and against teleportation. Once they were through it, they would be able to see inside the Tower and be inside of it in a heartbeat, only the dead within the Grove would stand in their way.

All other times, the terror the Grove gave off at all times was enough to keep anyone away from getting so close to the Tower. But right now it was obvious to her that they were somehow unaffected by the terrors that the Grove gave off.

Yurielle had no time to ponder this strange fact as the arcane-hunter reached the end of the path and she saw them. The three heads of the Orders stood before her, as well as the lesser members of the Conclave. Twenty one in all stood outside at the edge of the Grove, right outside of the low, over hanging tree branches. More mages stood elsewhere along the street that surrounded the Grove as well as on top of the abandoned buildings beyond.

The attacks on the barrier halted when she appeared out of the gloom and mist, riding an arcane-hunter.

“I believe it's me that you want,” her voice rang out clear and high. “I am here!”

The silence stretched on. By the looks on many of their faces, Yurielle knew that they had not been expecting this.

“You're surprised to see me? You thought your poison would incapacitate me? I'm sorry to disappoint you!” she shouted at them. “Tell me what you want or leave this place! You are not welcome here!”

“Yurielle,” Par-Salian stepped forward. “Come with us. This is no place for you!”

“Where is my place Par-Salian? With you? To be your puppet!?” she shouted, the stones beneath the feet of the other wizards shifted slightly and she realized that she had to reign in her anger better.

“You have damaged the Tower of Wayreth and killed several wizards,” a female Yurielle did not recognize stated. “You will face judgment for your crimes against the magehood!”

“And what of _their_ crimes?” Yurielle asked, pointing at the three heads of the Conclave.

More silence followed until Ladonna stepped forward. “Yurielle of the black robes, you have fouled the order of magic. You must face punishment!”

“Fouled it how Ladonna? By simply existing?!” Yurielle had to take a breath to calm herself as anger coursed through her. “I have served the order faithfully and without question my whole life!” she said evenly then, her eyes fell on the other members of the order and ignored the three heads. “You ALL know me! You all know of what I have given to the magehood! My skills I have always shared with you freely, never once have I ever asked for anything in return!

“You think that I willingly murdered fellow members of the craft in cold blood?! Is that what they told you?” she looked into their faces. “Can you honestly think that _I_ would ever do such a thing?”

“Then why did you do it?” a man in white farther down the line of mages asked. “We know you Yurielle, you are a kind person. But you are robed in black...” he let that hang in the air. She knew the man from the library within Wayreth, his name was Geldwyn and was a fellow scribe that worked beside her. Though of opposite robes, the older man had always been kind to her, if not reserved in his interactions. Searching the line, Yurielle found his sister Sisne farther back near the buildings, away from the Conclave members.

“Yes I wear the black,” she replied. “But not because of what lays in my heart!” her eyes scanned the line again. “Yes I admit I attacked the Heads of the Conclave. Yes I admit I damaged the Tower...” her voice lowered and her eyes shimmered with sudden tears. “Yes I killed... but only to save myself! Only to get out of a life of lies and deceit!” Yurielle's finger pointed at the three heads once more. “They murdered my family! Kept me as a prisoner and lied to me my whole life about who and what I am! These people are not what they claim to be! It is they who have fouled the Order with their lies and bloodshed!”

“Where is the Master of the Tower?” Ladonna asked, ignoring Yurielle's accusations.

“He has nothing to do with this,” Yurielle stated. “This is about me!”

“Raistlin Majere indeed has something to do with this!” Justarius stated. “The man has taken not one thing from us, but two.”

“I do NOT belong to you!” Yurielle yelled. In her fury the snow around everyone shifted as if a great wind blew, yet the air was still as death.

“Give us the artifact girl!” Ladonna hissed. “Return it to us and come back to Wayreth to face judgment for your betrayal and we will leave Raistlin Majere alone as he wishes.”

“I will keep both the artifact, as well as my new apprentice, if you don't mind,” Raistlin's voice sounded suddenly as he appeared next to Yurielle and the undead dire wolf. He spoke in is usual low whispering voice, but the sound was amplified and carried across the space so that all heard him.

“You already have an apprentice Raistlin Majere,” Par-Salian stated. “Is one not enough for your ambitions?”

Dalamar then appeared on the other side of Raistlin with a chuckle. But the dark elf wisely said nothing in response to Par-Salian.

Raistlin's eyes rested on the Highmage of the Conclave and quickly narrowed them menacingly. “How did you not think that I would eventually figure it out Par-Salian?” he asked lowly, changing the subject.

The elderly man blinked, obviously confused.

Raistlin's eyes scanned the assembly of figures. “Tell me,” his voice rose slightly higher as he addressed them. “Since when do white robes keep prisoners? Since when do they murder families, lie, and scheme to hold their power?” His eyes returned to the old man, “Since when do they use black magic to curse?”

Par-Salian's eyes widened slightly but he composed himself quickly, “It was for your own good Raistlin. Everything I do is for the magic.”

A few of the white robes within the line started, their incredulous eyes turning to their leader when they realized he did not deny anything that Raistlin had just said.

“For the _magic_ you robbed me of my sight and forced me to see death in all things,” Raistlin's voice was nothing but a whisper, cold and devoid of all emotion. “You let a long dead archmage try to possess me during my Test and you come to retrieve the one thing that may break his hold on me? No...” he said louder. “You came to take two things that may help me in this,” he eyed Yurielle for a heartbeat before turning back to the line of mages opposite him. “You will not get the Bloodstone, nor her,” his voice was low and menacing. No one questioned what lengths the archmage would go to in order to keep what he felt was his.

“You were compensated for your suffering Raistlin Majere,” Par-Salian stated. “You agreed at the time it was sufficient.”

Raistlin's eyes locked with Par-Salian's once more. “You call giving a staff and a tea recipe compensation for what you did to me for my own _good_? You knew what lurked within the halls of my Test. You _knew_ what my life would be after I left Wayreth. You KNEW how I would suffer! And yet you did nothing to help. You sent me from the Tower a sick, broken man and expected me to do your dirty work for you!”

The tense silence was heavy in the air.

“Of what does he speak of Par-Salian?” one of the lesser Conclave members asked. He was an elf that wore the red robes of Lunitari, for the life of her Yurielle was having trouble remembering his name as she was both angry and afraid of what was going to happen.

The head of the Conclave seemed to pale slightly, “What I did to you Raistlin Majere, has nothing to do with why we are here this day. If you want to have words with me, then we will do so in private.”

“I beg to differ,” Raistlin rumbled in reply. “Your lies and misuse of the magic is _exactly_ why we are here.” He held a hand out to Yurielle. She took it and slid off the arcane-finders back with his assistance. “You came here to take everything that may reverse what you have done to me. If they were both merely artifacts, then I would negotiate with you. But you do not own Yurielle and she is here by her own free will. Unlike what you did to her.” The undead beast gave a growl as he said this, its empty eyes on the line of mages before it. “You are afraid that your loyal subjects will think less of you once they learn the truth!”

Hourglass orbs again looked to his fellow mages, “What do you see brothers and sisters in the craft?” he asked, indicating the woman who now stood next to him. “I'll answer,” he said, knowing no one would speak up.

“You see before you a woman too good to wear the black robes. Yet she does. You see before you a woman with magic like ours but also filled with magic that is _not_ like ours. We all sense this inside of her. You cannot deny that something is... odd about Yurielle,” his eyes fell on her a moment before he continued. “We all know of what is termed wild magic, which was also known as Primal Sorcery in Ages long past. It was the beginnings of magic upon Krynn, or so we have always believed. The source for this power is the ambient weave around the planet, the left over forces of creation. But no mortal has been able to wield it efficiently since the Orders of the Arcane were created. We all thought that it would never be more than parlor tricks and simple things used by hedge witches and tricksters,” he turned back to his fellow mages.

“The magic is in flux... Krynn has reached a point that balance must be anchored. The ambient must have a place on Krynn once more. Mortals must again hold this power and Yurielle is the first of many. We may embrace it or,” his eyes now darted to the Heads of the Conclave. “Or we cage it as they tried to do. You all saw what she did when she learned how they enslaved her, how they murdered her family to make her theirs. Is this what a wise Conclave does? How long have you hunted users of the wild magic?” Raistlin's voice rose even higher. “How much blood is on the Orders hands? How long have you ignored the perilous flux of the arcane?”

Several mages along the line shuffled their feet uneasily, their eyes going back and forth between the mages on the path to the ones that stood in the line with them.

“You want her power for yourself!” Ladonna spat. “You all heard how he wants to keep her close for his own gains. He will use her to destroy us all! Godhood is not his only goal it would seem,” she sneered at him.

“You're only upset that you didn't realize my true power,” Yurielle stated, her hand still on the arcane-finders head. The beast rumbled as she ran her fingers through its fur. “Yes I contain the moons power... yes I wear the black robes though it pains me. Yes I have wild magic. I now hold its power fully and you cannot stop me from teaching others. Magic must be balanced between the moon and the planet. The gods have granted me this and they have come to me. As has Krynn! She has chosen me to do this and the gods of the moons have blessed it!”

“Such a thing is NOT possible,” Justarius stated incredulously. Still, after all this time and after seeing what this young woman was capable of, he did not believe.

At that moment Yurielle raised her hands and spoke an incantation, a protection spell sprang up around the three black robes, it shown with the light of the silver moon. The line of wizards gasped at her obvious use of white magic then stood awed when suddenly she continued and cast several illusions that mirrored the three until they had spread out along the line, facing the mages. A spell accessible to red robes, illusion was their domain.

“Proves nothing,” Ladonna snarled. “If given enough time and focus, any mage can cast whatever they wish.”

“Including a white robe casting black curses!” Yurielle shot back as she raised her hand and snapped her fingers. The sound rang out and echoed through the Grove as her spells crumbled and faded. She had instantly dispelled them without even speaking. This was far more unnerving to the wizards gathered and more murmurs could be heard. “Krynn's magic is different,” she said softly. “I do not wish to undermine the moons. But we must work _together_ in this new balance!”

“Or else what?” Par-Salian asked now.

“You have hunted and killed wild mages for far too long,” Yurielle said quietly. “You cannot deny it any further. You've always known...” her eyes searched the three Heads of the Orders. “You've always known that this day would come. You committed murder to keep it secret. You hunted us whenever Krynn gave her power to someone.”

She turned to the other mages now. “My father was a red robe!” she pointed at Justarius. “So therefore I am borne of both magics and this is why you would not destroy me. Now it is too late now. I have learned the truth and you try to hide behind the lies you can no longer keep telling yourselves!”

“You tried to hide her,” Raistlin added, looking back to Yurielle. “You tried to prevent her from learning her true potential. You prevent what the gods ask of her...”

“Is this true?!” a red robed woman shouted, turning to the Heads of the Order.

“Quiet Jenna,” Justarius snapped.

“Father...” the woman growled. “Have you lost sight of the balance?”

The man shot his daughter a dark look.

“I will no longer stand with you if this is the case! If our Order is built on the blood of innocents, if the walls of Wayreth indeed echo with your lies, if Krynn has chosen her own followers and if the gods of the moons have blessed this then who am I to stand against it?” Jenna exclaimed, her eyes roaming over her fellow wizards before she looked at the three black robes before her.

Yurielle followed the other woman’s eye line; it went straight to the dark elf on the other side of Raistlin and lingered longest on him. Dalamar's jaw was set hard and clenched tight as a look passed between him and the one called Jenna.

Jenna took a determined step towards the Grove.

“Daughter NO!” Justarius exclaimed.

A thousand things happened at once.

Jenna broke into a sprint in an attempt to reach the path into the Grove. A handful of other mages followed her a heartbeat after. In response, the Grove lashed out at them, the spirits within the trees surged forward, ready to tear and devour in order to sate their never ending thirst for blood.

Dalamar broke away from Raistlin and Yurielle and ran towards the red robed woman coming towards him.

The arcane-hunter howled madly and rushed at the line of mages, ripping into them with a rabid fury. The line of wizards scattered but there were many who stood still as statues, frightened and confused at the sudden change of events.

The air around them all exploded with magic.

Raistlin was under sudden attack from several sources all at once. Spells flared around the archmage in a dazzling array of sparks and colors to Yurielle's eyes as he threw her away from himself in order to protect her from the powerful onslaught of deadly spells being aimed at him.

Yurielle flew away from the archmage and collided with the nearest tree before falling to the frozen ground. She knew that she had landed hard, but the sound that erupted around her drowned out everything else, including the pain that blossomed through her knees and arms as she connected with the ice and roots beneath the snow. Her breath was knocked from her body by the fall and Yurielle lay on the ground against the base of the gnarled tree, dazed and disoriented.

Blood pounded in her ears as adrenaline she wasn't used to coursed through her body. It was not supposed to come to a fight! This was all she could think as the haze of pain filled her while she tried desperately to draw a lung full of air.

Then, she heard the screams. So many screams.

Screams of anger, screams of triumph, and cries of horrible death.

But, even above the sounds of death and magic, Yurielle heard the low, even murmur of Raistlin Majere. Master of the Past and Present, Archmagus of the order of the black robes and Master of the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas, Raistlin Majere was raining death down upon his enemies.

And Yurielle saw in that moment, why the world feared him.

His magic was terrifying, his focus, razor edged. His soft voice filled the air with more power than any shouts as electricity and fire raged around him as well as out of him. The look on his face was hard and intensely focused, nothing could reach him except his magic right now.

From where she lay in the ice and snow, Yurielle could see the archmage's eyes. Those golden orbs that she thought so beautiful were filled with a twisted look of thrill and ecstasy as he channeled raw power through his body.

Such power!

Walls of Flame erupted out of Raistlin and ran along the line of mages, scattering them further as they tried desperately to get out of the way. The smell of burning cloth, hair and flesh filled the air. The archmage did not allow them a moment of respite for as soon as they were free of the inferno, he unleashed a terrible arc of lightning into the crowd. The crackling beams raced along the ground, finding and injuring many of the mages who stood against him

Yurielle noticed that Raistlin had erected a shield around himself and had extended it far enough to cover her as well. Yurielle lay there for several moments, her heartbeat echoing inside of her as she simply watched Raistlin cast spell after horrible spell of death and destruction upon those that threatened him and his Tower.

She never, not in her wildest dreams, could have ever imagined someone could cast spells like that. But Raistlin did so with such speed and focus that it seemed to many that day that they were up against a far larger group of mages instead of just one archmage and his apprentice.

A powerful blast of fire engulfed the shield in that moment and with her eyes, Yurielle saw that the his shield barrier was weakening. With a growl the archmage slammed the end of the Staff of Magius into the snow beside him, causing the shield to flare up brighter once more as the staff absorbed the energy of the magical attack. The sparks of magic from the fireball was tinged with the sickly gray color that she knew to be Par-Salian.

Tearing her eyes from the awe and terror that was the man Yurielle had come to trust and care for, she looked across the expanse that lay between her and the row of Conclave mages to find the other man that she had ONCE trusted and cared for. He stood there amongst the chaos, his white robes glimmering in the overcast light of the cold Palanthian winter. His face was impassive, shrouded in a resolved expression of what he felt he must do.

She could also see that in the few seconds that had passed there were many crumbled forms of bodies dressed in white, black or red, lying upon the stone of the street that lay beyond the Grove. Mages of all three of the Orders were fighting desperately.

They were fighting against Raistlin, against Dalamar, and against each other. For many mages, the red robed one named Jenna among them, had ran into the Grove, defecting from the Conclave. In anger and shock, many of the other members had turned on them and in the confusion they had all forgotten about Yurielle.

A mass of black fur and rotting teeth soared over her spot next to the twisted tree as the arcane-hunter rushed at Par-Salian as if sensing Yurielle's ire towards the man. With a howl and otherworldly snarl, the beast lunged at the seemingly frail magus to impale him with fangs that dripped with blood.

The white robed master dodged the attack with more speed and agility than Yurielle could ever have thought possible. Reaching into his pouches, she watched helpless was Par-Salian flung a handful of ruby dust at the dead creature as it shot past him. With a word of power a cage of magic encased the beast that then let out a howl of anger and rage and began to fling herself against the magical bars with abandon, trying to free herself.

Next to her Raistlin opened his right hand and two huge rays of magical energy flashed outward over his adversaries. The first one was ice blue and those hit by the spell suffered biting cold that nearly froze them in place. The second ray blazed red hot, searing flesh from those that survived the ice with an inferno of fire. More fell to the power of the Master of the Dark Tower.

Yurielle had seen enough.

Her hands in the snow to push herself back up in order to somehow stop or help those that needed her, Yurielle's hand wrapped around the twisted and black root of the tree next to her.

In that instant several more things happened.

Yurielle felt the tree she touched, felt its rage and its hate, felt it's want to crush and suck the life out of her. But she also felt a presence. Ariallah was there in the undeath around her, she was within the ghouls and the skeletons that rose from the rotting leaves and ancient vegetation that blanketed the floor under the snow. Her twin was somehow there, in the twisted trees, their cries of agony held a note of her sisters voice... it was like the sound she had made as she fell through the ice all those years ago.

The woman recalled the mirage of the figure that she had seen coming towards her when she had exited the Tower. It was her! It really was her twin! Yurielle could feel her sister imply to her through the dead root to not be afraid of death or of the darkness. Connect to it, embrace it, and she would help her do the rest.

Her balance on the other side, Ariallah would offer her aid. Just as Yurielle had asked of the undead.

“Help me sister,” Yurielle whispered and squeezed the root, not knowing exactly what would happen once she opened herself up fully to the wild magic and the death around her.

In a flash, like that moment that she had jumped into and melded with the arcane-hunter, Yurielle found herself within a maze of undead roots and inside of things that were dead, yet somehow not. Her eyes glazed over white so she did not see the trees surge forward, but she felt them as their branches reached out, as roots broke free of the soil, as the Shoikan Grove moved towards the line of Conclave wizards.

That momentary shock and panic that engulfed the Conclave mages was enough for Dalamar to finally reach Jenna, it was enough for the mages who willingly wanted to defect from the Conclave to fully run far enough into the Grove and find cover. Yurielle could see through the eyes of the ghouls into these people's hearts and feel their intent. With her sisters voice, Yurielle told the undead to move away and let the mages pass and to protect them from those attacking. And they obeyed. The undead let the newcomers into their domain and returned to their hunting.

The undead surged out of the Grove, seemingly released from their bonds of eternal torment. Skeletons and ghouls shambled towards the weakened line of mages who were now staring wide eyed at this strange turn of events.

Faintly Yurielle heard the Heads of the Conclave scream their rage and their pain as Raistlin's maelstrom of magic continued to surge around them and reach a crescendo. Through the Groves eyes and senses Yurielle could taste blood and could smell flesh burning as roots impaled several who attacked the Master of the Past and the Present. She didn't know who she was attacking, only that the trees drank the blood of her enemies.

It was both horrifying and delicious.

Connected as she was to many of the undead, Yurielle felt sick as wave upon waves of the beings began to fall under the powers of the Heads of the Conclave. Each disconnect from her control was like a hair being ripped from her scalp and soon Yurielle was trembling and sobbing as she fought to stay connected to her sister.

“ARIA!” she screamed through the haze of death that shrouded her eyes like a blanket of mist.

Then, to Yurielle's horror, it was not her sister that answered her call, but three pairs of luminous glowing eyes. In her current state, held somewhere in the world of life and death, open fully to the power of the ambient magic, Yurielle saw the Guardian's as they truly were.

The largest of the three, the one that stank most of Fistandantilus's essence, was slowly stalking towards her through the boughs of the angry trees. The oily blackness shrouded a figure that resembled a man, yet bones and twisted flesh could be seen through the tatters of a once black robe. The eyes, like two cold pinpoints of green poison, pierced into Yurielle's heart and from its neck hung a dark black jewel.

Though, one couldn't really call it black for it was the absence of light. Looking at it was like staring into the Abyss itself, and Yurielle felt herself slipping towards it.

She felt her own essence being drawn to it and along with it, tiny points of gold from Raistlin were also being siphoned into the void that hung around the apparitions neck.

“NO!” Yurielle cried in horror as the shadow grew. “You won't...!!” she couldn't finish her sentence as a powerful spell ripped through the area around her. She heard Raistlin scream in pain, she felt the arcane-hunter howl in agony and felt scours of the undead that she was attached to wink out of existence.

The Guardian only laughed at her.

Through the corner of her eye Yurielle saw the other two Guardian's. They were lesser than this one, mere shadows of the being that was coming towards her. But Yurielle saw them and recognized them for what they were. Though she did not understand how, she saw that the archlich that tormented Raistlin was coming towards her in more than one manifestation.

“Raistlin!” she screamed now, panicking. “RUN!”

Suddenly Yurielle felt heat and pain as the tree that she was connected to at that moment burst into flames. Disconnecting herself from the blistering bark she fell back with a scream of her own and landed in the snow once more.

Opening her eyes she found Raistlin kneeling on the ground next to her. At some point he had come closer, to shield her better or ward off an attacker, Yurielle didn't know. He was still casting, even now. Blood trickled from his nose and the corner of his mouth as he refused to let go of his magic, even as it began to tear his body apart.

Dazed and heartsick, Yurielle watched in horror as Raistlin summoned a dark shadow that rose beneath the feet of Ladonna and another mage next to her. The shadow surged upwards in a flash of horrifying dark energy. The bones within the bodies of the ones inside of the ring of darkness glowed brightly for a split second before they exploded, reducing the head of the order of black robes to cinders along with one of her followers. Yurielle's heart froze, for surrounding Raistlin in that same moment was not only his usual golden sparks, but also thick, oily blackness. “Raistlin STOP!” she tried to call out to him, but it only came out as a pathetic sob.

The scene around them had descended into a nightmare as Raistlin's spells tore through the assembled Conclave. Those that could began to flee upon seeing the archmage destroy Ladonna with that horrible spell.

Bodies lay everywhere amongst the shattered remains of skeletons and ghouls. Trees were aflame and, even disconnected from her sister; Yurielle still heard the trees of the Shoikan Grove scream as they wept blood. The dark red droplets rained down around her and all within the Grove, covering the ground and staining the snow red.

Justarius lay prone on the pathway a few feet away from Yurielle and Raistlin. Roots were winding around his arms and legs, pulling him farther beneath the trees. The arcane-hunter was still trapped within the ruby cage and howling her fury.

Dalamar was on his knees while Jenna was shielding him with half of her body as together they flung their combined spells at the few remaining Conclave members. The ones that had defected were trying to help, but so many of them were weakened, the limits of their spell casting reached. This could not go on much longer.

They were all going to die.

In front of it all stood Par-Salian. The old mage seemed to be completely unharmed as he battled fervently with Dalamar and Jenna, all the while casting extra spells at Raistlin when he had the chance. The robes of the Highmage still glimmered with their usual pristine white. However, now the fabric was marred with dark sprays of blood and ash. Bodies lay around him as dark shadows danced along the ground below him. His bright blue eyes shone like two cold pinpoints of light as he himself called forth horrible magic.

Pale and emotionless as any undead being, Par-Salian met the eyes of Yurielle. For a heartbeat there was a tiny look of sadness that flashed through those cold orbs of the Highmage. But it was quickly replaced by a look of resignation. “I am sorry my child...” he said quietly. “You cannot be allowed to exist any longer.”

The white robe raised a thin, age-spotted finger at her.

Yurielle's heart thudded in her ears and guts twisted as the words of a powerful necromantic spell filled the space around the Head of the Conclave.

He was going to kill her!

When the rolling shadow that he had summoned finished its destruction of Ladonna and the other mage, Raistlin turned his attention back to the white robe. “Par-Salian!” his voice rang through the battle, full of hatred as he saw the white robe begin to raise a finger and point it at Yurielle.

Golden eyes widened in disbelief that soon flared with anger and rage. Terrifying, absolute rage rushed through Raistlin upon recognizing the Finger of Death spell.

Red hot fury flooded Raistlin when he KNEW that would kill this old man! The man who masqueraded around in robes that were white but did little to hide the blackest of souls. Raistlin vowed to himself that Par-Salian would die horribly and in such agony that even Chemosh, the god of death, would stand in awe at what Raistlin would do to the Highmage for threatening Yurielle!

Quickly Raistlin reacted and instantly cast Counterspell, robbing the white robe of his kill.

Par-Salian felt his spell fizzle and be denied. He turned then to regard Raistlin. “You have grown powerful young man,” his old voice was thin and reedy and as cold and distant as his eyes. “I know that I chose right to forge you into the weapon that you have become. But your use is now at an end. Now, you must be put down like the rabid creature you are!!”

“No old man,” Raistlin rasped at him. Even though his body was weakening, his eyes blazed with a frightening light of rage and vengeance. “ _Your_ time is at an end! All will know of your true color before this is over, I swear it! I will tear down the foundations of what you have built and create a new order on top of your bones!” the archmage cried in a voice that was terrible to hear. Deeper and stronger than his usual tone, Raistlin Majere reached deep within himself into that place he relied upon when he needed more power.

In that moment like never before, Raistlin understood what that place was inside of himself. And more than that, he understood who and what resided there.

_'Yes boy!'_ Fistandantilus hissed. _'Let us end them!'_

So be it.

Absently wiping the blood from his face Raistlin began another spell. With every word and syllable uttered, his voice grew even stronger. Yet, as Yurielle watched, transfixed again by his majestic hold on the magic, Raistlin's skin had gone deathly pale.

Reaching into his component pouch, Raistlin drew out a lodestone and a pinch of sand. With a dark smirk upon his blood stained lips, Raistlin began the casting a Disintegration spell. He knew how to shape it, knew how to mold it to cause such agony as the world had never seen. This was the special secret the whispers inside of his head and shown him through the years. He knew the ways to bend spells to his will.

All who wronged him would suffer and Par-Salian would be the first!

For he had threatened Yurielle. Had threatened his Tower and Raistlin himself. The white robed archmage was a threat to the Magic in all its forms. Par-Salian must die, his end would be far more horrible than Ladonna's had been and Raistlin Majere would be the one to end him. Even at the cost of his own life.

The Highmage's eyes widened in panic, for he knew that he would not survive Raistlin's assault. He was weakened, all of his defensive spells had been drained to their limits and his own pool of power was depleted. Par-Salian had not counted on Yurielle being awake and so focused in her strange magic. The days up to the full black moon had always weakened her, pained her, and Par-Salian had counted on this time to nearly kill her as the poison he himself designed would have incapacitated her. He knew the nearly full black moon would increase Raistlin's power. But he had severely underestimated the young man's resolve.

He would not do so again. So like Raistlin, Par-Salian as well began his own casting. One final desperate spell of immense power surrounded the two wizards, it was only a contest to see who released their spell first.

To Yurielle's eyes, the air around them was a torrent of immeasurable power as two of the strongest wizards alive pulled the magic around themselves in one last attack meant to destroy one another. Yurielle's focus went to Raistlin and she felt the power of his spell especially, and all breath left her body. “Raistlin no!” she cried. His magic was there all around her, even as she sensed his body fading.

He was calling forth a spell that he no longer had the strength to cast.

Scrambling to her feet, Yurielle came to his side. The woman knew that she could not interrupt him for doing so would surely kill them both if he lost hold of the spell. “Let me help,” she whispered, coming up behind him. She saw the tiniest flicker of recognition in his eyes but he did not waver in his spell casting. He was far too disciplined and focused to let her distract him now.

Coming up behind Raistlin, she reached out with the wild magic once more and let it wash over the both of them as her senses opened up to his casting. She felt the rhythm of of how he wove the spell, saw how the gods granted the power to answer his words. She felt and saw him gather the gold filaments as well as the oily blackness around him, building the power even as the other wizards spells tore through him, unseen by any eyes but hers.

Fear filled her because she could see that Raistlin was dying. He was being ripped apart by his own magic! And even more terrifying Yurielle realized, was that he didn't care. As long as he died within his magic and took his foe with him, Raistlin did not care. This would kill him if he finished the spell!

Kneeling behind him Yurielle reached her arms along his, her fingers splayed on top of his own as they twitched and wove his final spell. The woman did not hinder him, was not in his way as he moved. She only hovered over him, her touches on his skin feather light as butterfly kisses.

As she did this she hummed gently, her voice carried around them as her own power wove with his in her eyes. Vibrant white tinged in indigo danced together with gold as the magic answered their calls. The light of her own magic chased away the oily blackness she had seen creeping into his essence. Emboldened by this, Yurielle sang softly into his ear as she pressed the side of her head against his, “You are the darkness to my light... do you feel it?”

Indeed, they both felt it. The weave of their magic, arcane and ambient, woven together in a perfect tapestry of power flooded them. The surge of unity and exhilaration filled them both, body and soul as their power combined.

The magic flew from them, stronger than Raistlin had ever intended, and magnified by Yurielle's wild magic, it slammed into Par-Salian in a flash like a super nova. The remaining mages all had to shield their eyes or risk their sight as the man was engulfed by the inferno.

Yurielle tried to watch, tried to witness the end of Par-Salian, the man who had caged her and kill her family. The one who had cursed Raistlin with sight that would alter his very being and perceptions of the world, wounding the man in ways no other human on Krynn could understand.

In the last heartbeat before her and Raistlin's spell slammed into the Highmage, Yurielle thought she saw glowing green eyes amongst the dark vapors that had coalesced around the old man. But then there was only light. Searing, white hot light brighter than a thousand suns engulfed the area where Par-Salian stood and even Yurielle was forced to close her eyes as darkness pulled her down with him.

When the light faded, all that was left was a ring of melted snow where the Par-Salian once stood. The cobble stones of the street steamed with heat in the cold winter air.

Surrounding the collapsed bodies of both Yurielle and Raistlin, soft grass grew and sprang up from the snow around them, holding their unconscious forms. The woman had fallen on top of the archmage as he had twisted away from the blinding light and pulled her close, burying his face into her neck as they fell to the ground.

The trees had all stilled and the remaining undead of the Grove stood silently like puppets that had their strings suddenly cut. The arcane-hunter growled as the cage around it disappeared. The beast then turned and ran back to Yurielle as Dalamar limped over to his Shalafi. Jenna was barely able to support the elf through her panic as her own eyes fell on the fallen body of her father. The red robed mage was half buried in twisted roots that were squeezing his body in horrible ways.

Other mages began to stir then, survivors on both sides pulled themselves up and looked to the Master of the Tower and the strange woman that lay beside him. Horror filled many eyes that day, horror and uncertainty. Many fled, teleporting themselves away in flashes of light while others only stood and gaped, not knowing or understanding what had just happened.

But all could feel the change.

As one, both Raistlin and Yurielle sucked in breaths, their bodies reminding them that they needed to breathe. Yurielle's eyes were the first to open and she instantly focused on his pale gold face, “Raistlin...?” she asked hesitantly, worry thick in her voice.

Very slowly Raistlin's eyes fluttered open to meet hers, golden and dull but very much alive.

Yurielle sobbed as he pulled her to him, forcing their lips together. Raistlin kissed her again and this time she kissed him back fervently. Her hands on either side of his face, she hummed her approval into his mouth before he pulled away. A golden hand brushed along her cheek, it came away damp with tears and blood.

“What are you, dear Yurielle...?”Raistlin weakly asked for the third time since knowing her.

“Why Raistlin,” she sobbed, explaining to him yet again. “I'm just me.”

“Indeed,” he smiled as his eyes rolled back and he lost consciousness once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After several re-writes I think I finally got this chapter right. Originally I didn't have Raistlin doing much of anything but then I realized, this was his Tower and we needed to see why he is the most feared man on Krynn.   
> I hope I did him justice!
> 
> Also this is how much of a nerd I am. I have rolled Raistlin's stats using 5th edition D&D rules with him at about 16th level and I picked spells I thought he would use based on what we read in the books as well as what Fistandantilus may have provided him. So the spells you read him cast are either exactly as they are described in the Player's handbook or slightly altered. I even rolled damage on them as well!   
> If you are even remotely curious, here are the spells and the damage that I rolled from the spells that we saw him cast (though he probably cast several more while we were with Yurielle's perspective)  
> Wall of Fire = 28 fire damage  
> Fireball= 18 fire damage  
> Lightning bolt= 32 lightning damage  
> Prismatic Spray (rolled an 8 = 2 beams!)  
> Blue beam = 37 cold damage  
> Red beam = 37 fire damage (crazy I know that I rolled the same damage on both beams!)  
> Negative Energy Flood = 41 necrotic damage (altered to disintegrate upon killing instead of raising as undead)  
> total damage=193!   
> (this is of course the total damage that opponents would have suffered if they failed all their saving throws which, it's my story so they did LOL)  
> Good lord I never want to be a player character and come up against the likes of Raisltin Majere!


	28. Uncertainty and Yearnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drawing mid chapter - keep scrolling for the rest :)

The survivors of the fight managed to drag each other into the Tower. None of them were without injury as together they took stock of how they were all doing. Their wounds ran the gamut from broken bones to bloody gashes, to burns and contusions. They all needed immediate rest and healing after their desperate fight.

Besides the red robe Jenna, five more mages now resided within the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas. Two white robes had defected, as well as two more red and one black robe. A severely wounded Justarius had also survived. Jenna sat next to her father within one of the lower rooms inside of the Tower, seemingly waiting for the man to die, so severe were his injuries.

After quickly bandaging wounds and handing out healing potions to help ease injuries, Yurielle helped Dalamar find the newcomers suitable rooms on the second or third levels of the Tower. She left the elf as soon as everyone was sorted into their new accommodations to return to her own room in order to check on the Master of the Tower himself.

Dalamar was not permitted into Raistlin's private chambers and Yurielle would not have been able to carry the archmage in there from his study by herself. So they decided that her room would be the best option in order for Yurielle to keep an eye on him while he recovered.

Opening the door to her room after what seemed like hours, Yurielle peeked in. The fire crackled merrily but the man in the bed did not stir as she entered. Quietly she removed her dirty boots and blood stained robes. Casting these aside so that they rested along with Raistlin's discarded items, Yurielle wearily sat down in the chair next to the bed. As she sat there, her eyes fell on the still form beneath the covers; her only thought was of how the roles were suddenly reversed. Raistlin lay in her bed and now she sat in the same chair that he had occupied while she had been injured only a few days ago.

With a small groan she sat back in the chair. Her whole body screamed at the movement. Yurielle had been so busy seeing to everyone else's injuries that she had totally forgotten about her own. Now they flooded her with a vengeance, unwilling to be ignored any longer.

Yurielle knew she was covered in bruises but the ache they offered was nothing compared to the anxiety and revulsion at what had happened today that was twisting in her gut. Now that she had a moment to sit and be still, she instantly regretted the silence, for it only allowed her to remember the battle and what she had seen.

Dark incorporeal shapes with glowing green eyes, Raistlin surrounded by darkness as he cast horrific magic, the realization that he was willing and prepared to die within his magic. This is now what filled her thoughts.

Yurielle shuddered and closed her eyes to try to banish the memory but the act only made the images stand out all the sharper in her mind. Opening her eyes took effort, for her eyelids felt heavy in her exhaustion. But she knew that she would not be able to sleep even if she tried. Her thoughts were too dark, her heart heavy.

It was not supposed to have gone the way that it did. So much death and for what? She should have just gone with the Heads of the Conclave. She should have just accepted whatever fate awaited her in their grasps. Her freedom wasn't worth the cost of so many lives!

But, she knew, Raistlin would not have let her go. Yurielle's eyes finally fully opened and rested on his sleeping form. The slow rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed offered a kind of soothing rhythm to her broken thoughts. 'In... Out... just breathe....' she thought to herself as she tried to match her breathing to his in order to keep above the rising tide of panic in her chest.

Yurielle could barely hear his shallow breathing over the sound of the popping fire in the hearth. But just knowing that he was still alive brought her comfort. So, focusing on the slow moment, Yurielle forced every thought out of her brain and gradually the numbness and shock unraveled its hold on her.

Raistlin's features were hidden from her with the exception of one stray clump of white hair and the slight glint of a golden ear that peaked up from the edge of the covers. He lay facing away from her, deep in slumber and cocooned in heavy blankets. Even without seeing his face, Yurielle was content in the knowledge that he had just pushed himself beyond all endurance as he had fought the Conclave.

Yurielle knew that Raistlin was powerful, but there were always limits to every mages ability in maintaining their spell casting. Raistlin Majere was not a physically strong man, but he was able to wield powerful magic and so the cost to his body was high. Such a drain on one's body often left the unskilled weak and near death and the Hourglass Mage was no exception to this rule. Because of his drained state, Yurielle knew that he would most likely be asleep for hours.

But he was still alive. He was not going to die.

'In... Out...' she forced herself to focus again on her breathing as another wave of panic nearly pulled her under. The realization of just how close he had come to letting himself be torn apart by his own magic horrified Yurielle. She would have watched helplessly as he would have died right in front of her...

Her concentration broke with that imagined scenario and a sob escaped her throat. Tears stung her eyes and pain filled her chest at the very thought of watching him be consumed by the magic. In vain Yurielle tried to take a calming breath to bring herself back together. That scenario would not come to pass for she knew that she had not allowed it to happen, she had not allowed him to die. But even this knowledge did nothing to ease the pain that was constricting in her chest.

Perhaps this was what she was meant to do. Perhaps this was how she would aid him; to keep him from destroying himself.

Yurielle had no idea and the sudden knowledge of what he was capable of was terrifying. His magic was unlike anything she had ever witnessed in another wizard. She tried not to think about the spells she had seen him cast and tried to block the sounds of the screaming as Ladonna's bones exploded inside of her. But it was no use, her mind was in tatters after these last long hours without rest and now it was all that she could think about. It had been a terrifying spell that he had used, a dark spell of forbidden black magic and this man before her had cast it with ease.

To even be able to summon the strength to wield such magic was daunting to Yurielle's mind. She was not of a high rank within the order of black robes herself and she knew she was nowhere near his mastery. Yurielle was only strong enough for basic spells and high enough only to counteract curses. The strongest spell she could cast was maybe fireball if she had it prepared. However she was not a combat wizard and the majority of her known spells centered on defensive magics.

None of them had done her any good this day. Only the wild magic had answered her call. Her very bones seemed to tingle with the memory of that euphoric feeling as she called upon the weave and bent it to surround herself and Raistlin. The feeling of combining her magic with his... gods it was surreal! In that moment she had felt his power, the vastness of his ability, she had been both in fear and in awe of him.

It had been similar to when he had warded her and his magic had made her swoon and become light headed, her body filled with the ecstasy of his power. This time it was as if they were both one within that ecstasy. Yurielle's eyes fell on his form in that moment as her mind wondered if he had felt the same rush of magic. Had he been able to see their essences combine as their magics amplified and became one as she had?

Now that the moment of magic was over, now that it was just a memory, Yurielle's body yearned to feel it again. It was both thrilling and utterly terrifying, how in so short of time, Yurielle felt as if her whole being suddenly belonged to someone else. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she would do anything that he asked of her. Be it her magic, or otherwise.

Did he feel the same?

Was this the reason he was reluctant to follow through with his own desires?

Yurielle's eyes were locked on the sleeping form of the archmage as tears ran down her freckled cheeks. Was he afraid of sharing his power with her or was he afraid of sharing _himself_ with her?

Why was he afraid to be human?

He was a mystery to her; this man that she somehow couldn't bear the thought of parting with now. This powerful, terrifying, beautiful man before her; he was darkness incarnate and had the capacity within himself to do evil things. Things that made her want to weep in frustration because she did not know if it was him or the lich who held this power.

Then she remembered how she had viewed the Guardians while she had been connected to her sister. She had seen the death of the Grove, had seen the undead beings for what they were. Somehow, someway, Fistandantilus walked in that form as well as being connected to Raistlin. But, she felt a slight bit of relief at knowing that she had seen the things near Par-Salian when he was destroyed. Surely, nothing could have survived that!

But, none of that mattered in that moment. Not the questions that spun in her head of lich's and undead things. Not the terror of the hold over Raistlin. Not even the fear and thrill she got from seeing the archmage himself wield such magic. None of it mattered because Yurielle _knew_ that she needed him beside her.

Gods she needed him! And she had very nearly lost him.

The tears falling from her eyes blinded her now as the feelings in her chest tightened, the worry and horror over what was happening starting to cave inside of her all mingled with confusion and uncertainty. Yurielle could no longer hold back the tide of panic gripping at her as she muffled a sob with her shirt sleeve.

The magehood had collapsed within a span of minutes, hundreds of years of tradition and teachings had unraveled. All because of her and her wild magic. What was she supposed to do now? What was going to happen to the Conclave? To the orders of magic? Where was she going to fit in all of this? Were there others like her out there, now awakening to their wild magic?

So many questions swirled in her mind as that feeling in her chest constricted and her gut twisted so painfully that she couldn't stop the groan of agony that tore through her. She felt again like she was being crushed and all she wanted to do was scream.

Everything she had ever known was falling apart around her. The future and her place in it was suddenly so uncertain. Here she had become infatuated like a silly girl over a man whose destiny was far beyond her ability to comprehend. But the gods had asked her to help him. She had seen him among the stars in her Test. Somehow, someway;Yurielle knew that all of this was connected. Her destiny, for good or ill, was intertwined with the Hourglass Mage.

But Gods, she wasn't strong enough for this!

Tears slid down her face as she drew her knees up onto the seat of the chair and buried her face into her hands, trying to stifle the sounds of her sobs. Muffled chokes filled the room as the woman gave into her despair and finally, completely fell apart. She thought her heart would burst at the terror and sadness that filled it.

Suddenly she again felt so alone and lost in the sea of darkness. She was just one tiny star, trying to light the way. All that she ever had known was now filled with dark impenetrable evil and washed with blood.

No good could come of this... She was utterly, terribly alone. Her body shook as she buried her head in her arms, curling in on herself in a vain attempt to disappear.

“Yurielle?”

She froze at his voice; she had been crying for so long that the sound of something other than her muffled sobs was startling. Hastily Yurielle tried to dry her eyes before looking up and meeting Raistlin's heavily lidded gaze. “I'm sorry if I woke you...” she croaked through her tears, unable to steady her voice.

Raistlin only held out his hand to her from where he lay in her bed. His golden eyes glittered softly at her through a curtain of white hair. When she hesitated he said sleepily, “You're exhausted. That chair is not comfortable. Believe me, I know.” His voice was rough and low, tired and barely audible, “Come and sleep.” He beckoned again with his hand.

Slowly she stood and came to the bedside. Raistlin gently took her by the hand and pulled her in beside him as he sluggishly moved below the sheets to make room for her.

Yurielle climbed in next to the archmage and into the spot that he vacated. That ever burning heat he always gave off had warmed the blankets and brought instant realization to her that she was freezing as her body trembled. Silently she lay down on her stomach, tears still leaked from her eyes unbidden so she pressed her face into a pillow, trying to hide from his gaze as she sobbed.

For some reason, Yurielle felt ashamed at being so weak compared to him. Her power was nothing compared to his and she hated it. Hated feeling so different and unable to put into words what made her this way. And most of all, she hated feeling like that orphan once more, standing at the edge of the frozen river as her whole life was pulled under by the icy waves.

Not knowing exactly why she cried, Raistlin merely brushed Yurielle's hair aside with his hand and whispered, “It will be alright Yurielle.” His hand then went to her back where he caressed her spine gently, soothing her as she wept.

With a sniff she turned her face to his and found that he was mere inches from her. “So many died...” she choked.

“I know,” was all he said, his strange eyes were soft as melted honey in the low light of the room. “But not us...” he whispered as suddenly his arms were around her.

Wide eyed, Yurielle didn't resist as he pulled her against his body and encased her in his arms. Raistlin settle in behind her, spooning his body along hers, cocooning her in his warmth. “Rest now Yurielle. We will worry about everything else later. For now, just be and just breathe....” he soothed, his head half resting on the back of hers, commanding her in her own words she had used far back in the Library when he had not been able to breathe. “Be with me.”

Silently Yurielle nodded and nestled against him, savoring his warmth and soft breath against her hair. Twining her fingers with his own, Yurielle squeezed his hand.

Raistlin squeezed back and nuzzled his warm face into the side of her head. “Sleep Yurielle, I am here...” he whispered quietly. Through the haze of exhaustion Raistlin allowed himself to revel in the comfort of her presence. The scent of her filled his nostrils and the soft warmth of her body against his felt so right as he again felt the pull of unconsciousness take him.

The feeling of his heart beating against her spine slowly lulled away the tightness in Yurielle's chest as he soothingly ran his thumb over her hand in his. His rhythmic breathing quieted her unease as she felt his body relax against hers as the archmage drifted off once again back into slumber.

Slowly the agony and despair lessened within Yurielle and her tears dried. Her trembling eased and Yurielle soon fell asleep as well being surrounded by Raistlin's warmth and intoxicating aura of smells and magic. She again dreamed of being wrapped in golden silks, only this time, there was no pain or longing, only comfort as that tiny golden star in her hands fluttered like a fragile thing newly born into the world.

She would shield it and keep it safe.

***

***

 

There was warmth all around him and a softness against his body that felt so foreign yet so perfect as he shifted his position.

Through the haze and void of nothingness he could make out a long toned leg that arched over his. Even in the light of the full black moon, that leg was the color of warm cream and dappled with a dusting of pale freckles. He ran a golden hand along the thigh. It was softer than anything he could have ever imagined as he followed the curve of it up a hip and along the plane of a stomach.

A soft moan filled his ears as his warm hand continued upwards, over delicate ribs and along the supple side of a breast. He leaned over and buried his face in the cascade of soft auburn hair that seemed to appear out of nowhere. The dark locks shimmered with highlights of fire and gold. Beneath the hair was a lean neck, the flesh was warm as he ran his lips along it. He could feel the beating of a heart quicken as he kissed that neck and tasted the soft flesh. The smell of peppermint and rose soap filled his nostrils as did the aroma and tingle of magic as he deeply inhaled her essence.

Gods that magic!

The remembrance of the rush he had felt when that magic had been added to his own, the sheer ecstasy that made his blood surge as he had released the spell that had flared brighter than the sun, rose within him once more. He wanted more of that magic, more of that essence. He wanted to consume it, devour it, use it and let it use him in return. Ravenous need and lust for it coursed hotly through him as his lips searched along that flesh for the source of that power he craved so deeply.

Long fingers wove into his hair, pulling him to a mouth with lips softer and pinker than the petals of any flower he had ever seen. Eagerly he devoured that mouth, the taste and wetness of it sending all reason from his mind as the fog of battle drifted around them. The mouth moaned against his and he faintly could make out his name through the screams and cacophony of death surrounding them.

But the battle didn't matter; the turmoil around them meant nothing. There was only he and the soft warm flesh of his desire. Vaguely he had the fleeting thought that right now, a mortal body housed what he sought most, but it would not always be the case. All he needed to do was separate the two and then all of that power would be his for all eternity.

The image of her body, wrapped intertwined with that of five slender necks, each a different chromatic color jolted him for a heartbeat, confusing him. But that mouth called to him, those eyes pleaded with him and her body was pressed so tightly against his that he could not resist. All things faded into a haze of breaths and thudding heartbeats as those long legs wrapped around him, holding him tightly as his body burned with need.

The fire of their desire was agony but he could not bring himself to put it out as it enveloped the both of them. Burning their flesh from their bones, blackening the two of them as their own magic destroyed one another.

It was agonizingly perfect.

Drawing back he met dark indigo eyes, their centers were bright as new formed stars that coalesced and merged into one shimmering orb of light. The star glittered up at him through time and space, its pure white light was haloed in shimmering blue.

Magic was everywhere around him, flowing out from that point of light that he now held in his hands. The tiny star pulsed with warmth and reassurance that it would always be there, no matter what happened. This magic was unlike anything he had ever beheld as it flowed around him and filled every crack and crevice he had suffered through his endless existence of nothingness. The magic was wild and chaotic, both blissful and painful to hold.

He needed it, _desperately_ he needed it! After all this time there had been nothing. So many eons it seemed of nothing only to find this last spark, this one thing that could redeem him and save him. It was both heat and cold, giver of life and bringer of death. It was agony and pleasure.

There was a moan, a laugh, and a scream all in one melody that sang to him through some point in time. He had heard that song before, had known it once just as much as he had once known his own name. He tried to focus on it, tried to find it though the rivers around him. But there was so much nothingness, so much empty void both around and within that he questioned his own sanity.

He had to bring it all back, had to undo what had happened. He wanted to somehow stop what he had done.

Nothing, not even limitless power, was worth this endless loneliness. But the darkness within him was so strong... he had long given up to it and allowed it to consume him. Would he be strong enough to fight against it to save himself?

The spark in his palms sang to him, urging him to make it so, for he would find it again, someday. There was no way to know if it would work, but it was all he could do. “I'm sorry...” With one last act of defiance against what he had become, he squeezed his golden fist and the light shattered.

The legs around him, the flowing hair, those eyes and lips, all of it cracked away as the universe tumbled upon itself and exploded into the river of time.

The hourglass turned once more.

 

***

 

Raistlin awoke with a start. His eyes darted around the room as he tried to sort through the strange images that fogged his mind. Very slowly, things came back to him. It had been the turning of a body next to him that had disturbed his sleep and had pulled him out of the dream.

Moving his eyes, they rested on Yurielle as she finished her roll. She was deep within her own sleep as she came to rest and nuzzled in next to him. Her face pressed close against his chest as she sighed within slumber. He could see her eyes behind her lids move slowly as she dreamed.

In the dim firelight of the room Raistlin followed the curves of her face with his eyes. His own face was so close to hers that he could feel her soft breath on his skin, could smell her scent of peppermint and the faint hint of roses and other spell components. Her thick auburn hair lay around her and had spilled across the pillow in waves of shimmering brown and red. The golden ends shined at him just as brightly as his own skin in the firelight.

Black _gods_ was she stunning! That was all he could think of as faint memories of his dream floated back to him. Of curves and soft skin, of warm lips that moaned and the feel of their magic woven together as one.

It was a good thing the woman herself was such a heavy sleeper, or else she would have heard Raistlin's sharp intake of breath, see his face flush redder than it ever had done. Being this close to her, pressed against her the way that he was, Raistlin could do nothing against the sudden wave of want.

Thanking every god there was in existence; Raistlin was glad that Yurielle slept so soundly. For if she had been awake, the woman pressed against him would most definitely notice how his manhood was reacting from being so close to the single focus of his desire, especially now, after dreaming that dream and recalling the feel of her magic amplifying his own. The memory of her pale skin, the soft feel of her flesh pressed tight against him, those long lean legs holding him _there_.

Hot lust coursed through the archmage's veins and he was shocked at the overwhelming sensation of it. He was alarmed by how powerful it was and how very little control he had over it in that moment.

Taking a long, slow breath Raistlin closed his eyes and called upon his will to calm himself. He would never forcefully take her, this he knew. But he also knew that all he had to do was wake her. To kiss her in this moment or to simply touch her, and everything would unravel.

 _He_ would unravel and be at her complete and total mercy.

Even after the strange turn of events within the dream, Raistlin found that he greatly desired her. This strange woman who amplified his magic and forced him to feel things he had never thought that he would. Yurielle, the tether his own will had fought for, this beautiful spark of wild power....

Raistlin could figure out most of his dreams easily. But when it came to ones with Yurielle they were either sexual, an obvious reflection of his desires, or they were like the second part of the dream he had just had. Full of symbols and meanings that he had no grasp of what they could represent or mean. Before she had been dead and intertwined with Takhisis, now she was a star. A spark of magic held within the emptiness. A shining bit of hope that he selfishly destroyed.

The archmage was well versed in visions and dream symbolism. His mother had been gifted with powerful dreams. Raistlin was not prone to such visions that Rosamun Majere had eventually succumbed to, but her son still knew and understood that he too had strong dreams that almost always meant something. But he could not for the life of him solve why that dream felt so real to him.

The need to devour her magic, to use it and bend it to himself suddenly filled him once again. Raistlin held his breath as he focused on this sensation, this dark want that was nearly as strong as his physical lust. His blood ran cold for he knew that it was not himself that wanted such things. The lich inside of him also desired Yurielle, but for an entirely different reason and the realization filled the archmage with a strange, almost possessive feeling.

The lich would not get her!

There was a tingling in the back of Raistlin's mind. Fistandantilus was laughing.

Just then Yurielle shifted against him and evaporated any thoughts he was having. The woman suddenly pressed her body even more along his. Those legs he had dreamed of around him shifted against his own, her bare foot brushing against his under the covers as her leg entangled with his. The contact sent sparks of electricity up the archmage's body, every nerve aware of her presence and calling out to her for more.

More touching, more contact!

Raistlin closed his eyes and took many, many long and slow breaths, trying valiantly to calm his raging primordial instincts. But try as he might, thoughts of her still forced their way behind his eyelids and his body responded instinctively.

Never a man to ever have much need for physical pleasure, he was suddenly faced with this a lot lately. Raistlin was forced to open his eyes in that moment when the long ago image of her silhouette against the firelight found his brain.

Yet again.

That one picture of her perfect outline against the glow of firelight was the only image he now allowed himself to find pleasure in. That one image was undoing his years of physical control and now he no longer had to fantasize about how soft her skin was. He _knew_ how soft she was, for he had just touched her bare skin along her back only hours ago.

His hands twitched reflexively at the memory. Gods he wanted to touch her again! He wanted to feel those legs around him, he wanted to taste that soft skin, he _wanted_ to kiss those lips of hers! But most of all, he wanted to feel her magic again in his veins.

There was a stirring in the back of his mind at the memory and Raistlin again had the uncomfortable feeling that the archlich was echoing his wants.

Raistlin groaned quietly, for if he allowed himself to think any further of what he actually wanted, he knew damn well he would not be able to walk out of this room without doing something either terribly embarrassing or something he may regret.

Or... something he very well might enjoy...

That thought was his, yet not his. Fistandantilus was urging him on in that moment.

The archmage knew then that he was very close to losing control if the lich was able to bend his thoughts like this.

Raistlin knew that he should leave, that he should just get up and walk away and remove himself from this temptation. But Yurielle was so warm against him and he was still so very exhausted. As was she and Raistlin did not want to wake her. He just needed sleep and being in her presence was... nice to say the least. The feeling of her against him, though arousing, was comforting at the same time.

Even though he was battling with his own urges and the echoing desires of the archlich, Raistlin also wanted _this_. He had longed greatly to just hold her in his arms, to find comfort in her and offer his own in return.

Because of this, Raistlin refused to leave. He knew he was stronger than his physical wants. He could overcome the physical pitfalls that plagued his twin! He had bent his will to master everything else in his life.

This, too, would be no different.

Stubbornly the archmage stared at the ceiling for several minutes, thinking about something, anything other than her. He was starting to succeed in reigning in his out of control body and urges as he focused on anything that would come to mind to distract him. Thoughts of his mother's death and the deaths of others that he had witnessed and been the cause of. Of how he killed the image of his own twin during his Test. Thoughts of war and blood and gore and of the things he held hidden beneath his Tower filled his mind as did his secrets that he dare not tell her. Anything and everything that would calm his blood.

The attempts were working as Raistlin felt sleep begin to mercifully pull him back under.

Until Yurielle mumbled something in her sleep.

It was a sad sound, a yearning sound, tinted with what may have been his name.

It vividly brought to mind the dream he had just had and Raistlin knew then that he was defeated. He knew in that moment that he could _not_ overcome this! But he was not his twin; he would not give into his desires. Raistlin Majere would not let weakness of the flesh defeat him.

So he did what he knew Caramon would not be able to bring himself to do.

Raistlin got up.

Slowly, carefully as to not disturb her, he extracted himself from Yurielle's loose embrace and slid out from under the blankets. Thankful yet again that Yurielle indeed slept like the dead. For she did not even stir as Raistlin left her side and quietly gathered his robes and boots.

Quickly donning the robes he was instantly thankful that they were thick and heavy enough to hide his masculine needs. He tried to scowl at his weakness as he pulled on his boots one by one, but for some reason he found all of this stupidly amusing. If not slightly humiliating.

What would she think or say, what would anyone think or say, if they knew that the Master of the Past and the Present was sulking away like this?

Raistlin suddenly felt like an adolescent again, unable to control his body's reaction and afraid that someone would catch him. The thought nearly made him chuckle to himself at the absolute absurdity of it all. He, the most powerful archmage on Krynn, a grown man, was running away from a woman that he knew he wanted as his own.

Raistlin didn't know what was worse, the fact that he knew he wanted Yurielle, or the fact that he was growing more and more certain that she seemed to want him as well.

Never, not in a thousand years, would he have ever thought he would be facing this predicament in his life. Raistlin sighed then and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration as he stared at the floor between his booted feet, his robes pooling around him. The few minutes and distance away from her had let the archmage regain control over himself and he quietly stood back up.

 _'Gods what is happening to me?'_ he thought desperately as he paced slowly towards the door.

Raistlin meant to leave, he really did, but he found this feet being pulled once again by this thread that bound the two of them. He followed it to her bedside for one last look at her in slumber. Yurielle lay there curled up now in a fetal position. It seemed to be an unconscious defense mechanism that she did when she was troubled and Raistlin found it somehow endearing in a sad way. There were suddenly so many things he was being to find endearing about her.

Gently he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face to join the rest of the dark red hair that had curtained around her. Such a lovely fiery color that vaguely reminded him of the Vallenwoods of his childhood home during autumn. Her pink lips were slightly parted as she breathed and he noted that one of her hands was out over where he had been sleeping. Long delicate fingers were bunching the cloth over the mattress, grasping it and holding on for dear life.

Raistlin suddenly realized that she had been reaching out for him, searching for him, and when he had not been there, she reacted by curling in on herself.

Warmth slowly spread through his chest at this knowledge as he gazed at her. Warmth and happiness tingled unexpectedly through his body. Raistlin felt these sensations and his first instinct was terror. He froze as the strange sensations flowed through him, his breathing increased as panic started to now flood him with adrenaline.

This was a feeling he was not used to! The warmth had settled in his chest, it felt heavy inside of him, making him sluggish. This feeling was unexpected, and it terrified him. It didn't belong!

Angry at his weakness, Raistlin knew that this warmth was a side effect of all this infatuation and flirting. She had indeed gotten to him and had settled somewhere deep inside his being.

In that moment Raistlin realized that it wasn't just physical desire that he held so strongly for Yurielle.

He... _cared_ for her!

The archmage had already come to accept that she meant _something_ to him. But the depths of what this suddenly seemed to imply shocked him just as much as the nearly unconquerable wave of desire he had battled with.

He didn’t just care for her.... he... NO!

Raistlin Majere was incapable of such a feeling! Whatever this new feeling was, he had to stop it right then and there. So he tore his eyes from her angrily as he crushed this new sensation and shoved it to the back of his mind.

This was a weakness and he only had one way that he knew how to fight against it. Turning away from her, the archmage slammed down every thought and feeling that he was experiencing in that moment with his iron hard will. Every feeling and urge within him cooled and evaporated as he replaced it with that ice cold facade he wore so easily.

Silently Raistlin Majere picked up his books that she had left on her night stand, his spellbook included, and left the room.

 

***

 

Yurielle awoke several hours later. Her head was fuzzy, her body felt like one giant bruise, and that ache in her chest had returned. Rolling over, she found that the bed next to her was empty. Raistlin had left and had taken all traces of himself from her room. His robes, boots, even his spellbooks, had all vanished with him.

Had he really been there at all? She shook her head, trying to clear it and remember. Yes he had been there, her perfect memory rarely made things up. Dalamar and her had brought him inside this room because the elf was not permitted into his masters chambers. So he had rested here to recover and he had invited her to sleep next to him. Yurielle could vividly remember Raistlin's embrace and his warmth. Without him and his lulling presence, the feeling in her chest was suffocating her again.

 _'Gods what is happening to me?'_ she thought desperately as the world seemed to collapse around her again when the realization that he was not there fully sank in. Suddenly she not only felt alone, she felt abandoned, orphaned...

Pulling her knees to her chest once more, she lay there in the empty sea of blankets and had a good cry. Endless minutes later she finally pulled herself together. Wrung out and exhausted, Yurielle just wanted to go back to sleep. But she knew that she couldn't. There were others in the Tower now, new comers that needed seeing to.

“Justarius!” Her head snapped up in remembering the head of the order of red robes. His body mangled and near death. Had he even survived the night?

Her aches, both emotional and physical, suddenly forgotten, Yurielle rose from the bed and quickly washed her face and threw her robes and boots back on. She knew she looked like a mess. But she also knew that probably everyone else would as well. So she exited her chambers to go find the others.

And see what the future would bring now.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Slaps forehead*  
> I completely forgot to give credit to the image/artist I ended up using as a reference for the pose in the drawing. I saw this fan art from the Witcher series by Russian artist Nastya Kulakovskaya and loved the pose. I don't always use references but when I see something that I want to try to capture the feeling of, I usually will. Here is the link to her diviantart to the image. https://www.deviantart.com/nastyaskaya/art/Yennefer-and-Geralt-688818207  
> I wanted to give credit because the end result is similar enough to the original that a keen eye may notice if they ever came across her drawings and I do not wish to make it seem like I've taken anyone's art design. Though I don't think one can claim a pose, I still wanted to give credit to the source of my inspiration.


	29. Death, New Blood, and Warm Cookies

The room smelled of blood and death as Raistlin entered after his apprentice had messaged him. It had been over half a day since the battle, and everyone Raistlin included, was still weary and exhausted. Despite this, they had all come to witness the final minutes of Justarius.

The archmage's eyes scanned the room and took in all that were in attendance. He was not surprised to find out that a small number of mages had defected in the fight to join them and now sought shelter within his Tower. His golden eyes took in each new face, studying them and looking for any hint of betrayal or secret agenda.

Those eyes belonging to the newcomers were wary as they met those belonging to the Master of the Tower. Many of them expected reproach or harsh words from him. However, they all visibly relaxed when Raistlin merely nodded after a moment of inspection before he turned to the dying man on the bed.

The archmage came to the bedside of the former leader of the red robes and examined his injuries. He was indeed near death, for all Raistlin could see with his cursed eyes was husk of a man on the bed. Flesh was tore away from Justarius's face allowing bone to be visible and there was a rattling in his lungs as he breathed that spoke of blood and damage within them.

“Majere...” the man managed to say.

“Father,” Jenna squeezed the man's hand. “Please let us take you to a cleric!”

Justarius shook his head, “No,” weakly he looked from his child up to Raistlin. “The other Heads...” the man was so weak that he could barely speak.

“They are both dead,” Dalamar confirmed to them all. “I saw them be destroyed.”

Justarius closed his eyes for a moment, breathing heavily. With obvious effort he reopened them just as Yurielle entered the doorway. Her gasp of alarm drew all eyes to her including the dying man's. Justarius held her gaze for a heartbeat before turning back to the Master of the Tower. “Take my memories...” he raised a trembling hand up to the archmage.

Raistlin blinked in surprise.

“Take them!” Justarius repeated fervently. “Before it's.... to late...” he wheezed as he forced the words out. “You must have them... as proof...”

Yurielle still stood frozen in the doorway, her hand over her mouth to contain the sob that threatened to escape her. Tears shimmered in her eyes when she saw the condition that Justarius was in. This man, though she had every right to despise and hate him for what he had done to her, had been with her nearly all of her life. Seeing him thus, hurt her more than she was expecting.

“All must see... what we did...” Justarius coughed, blood dribbled from the side of his mouth, “...to her.”

Raistlin did not hesitate then. Silently he tore his eyes off of Yurielle and knelt down beside Justarius to take the other man's head within his long golden fingers.

“No! Don't hurt him!” Jenna cried. Dalamar came forward and wrapped his arms around her to both hold and restrain her as she protested in her agony over her father.

The archmage ignored the outburst and all watched in sickening fascination as Raistlin and the dying man locked eyes with one another. Opening herself up to the wild magic that she was growing used too, Yurielle watched as well.

Through the primal and raw form of magic, she could see the weave of spellwork now without giving it much effort and as she watched, Yurielle saw Raistlin's golden aura spread down his hands and around the head and eyes of the red robe. Once linked by the spell, small orbs of memories began to be drawn from the dying man's eyes and enter Raistlin's.

The other mages in the room just stood silently as this transpired. They all knew that Justarius would not survive this and the quiet sobs coming from the man's daughter only emphasized this knowledge. They were literally watching the life and memories drain from him and enter Raistlin Majere, a man that they had all witnessed bring the whole of the Conclave to its knees only hours ago.

Yurielle could no longer watch as the stream of memories grew brighter and brighter, the link between the two men was strong even as the eyes of Justarius began to glaze over and his face drain of what little color remained. Forcing herself to stay with her fellow mages, Yurielle instead took in the sight of the newcomers that had come to join them within the Tower. Each of them had defected from the Conclave, but whether it was because of Yurielle's claim of what the leader had been up to and what they had done to her, or for reasons that they each held, Yurielle could not guess. They came to be here at least partly because of her, and Yurielle felt somewhat responsible for the sudden state of their homelessness.

She knew each of them from her time in Wayreth, but she had never really gotten to know any of them at any great length. Most people seemed to avoid her or were put off by the strange aura that surrounded her. Raistlin had said so himself, there was something odd about Yurielle and most mages keenly sensed it. Though never hostile to her, none of these mages before her had ever really gone far out of their way to really get to know her personally.

The two white robes were a brother and sister duo, Geldwyn and his younger sister Sisne. The woman, who was several years older than Yurielle, had just taken her own Test only a few weeks ago. How she had found herself here, Yurielle could only guess. But her older brother was one of the minor members of the Conclave and had been for a few years now. Yurielle had also worked beside him within the library in Wayreth as a fellow scribe and keeper of the records there. He was a kind man and had always treated Yurielle with respect when dealing and working with her.

The two red robed figures were both males and they stood at the other side of their leader's bed. One was a dark skinned human male named Creven who Yurielle knew very little of. The other, was a Qualenesti elf named Triandal whom Yurielle had met once or twice. The elf had also been on the Conclave as a lower member and Yurielle knew him to be one of the most staunch followers of the ideals of balance. He must have been convinced of Yurielle's claim, otherwise she knew that he would not be here. However he now stood staring at Dalamar, whose heritage was Silvenesti. Even though Yurielle knew that Triandal was a reserved old elf, she understood that the two elves were not going to get along even though both were considered dark elves by the rest of their respective societies. Prejudice between the elves still ran very deep even now after the War.

Finally Yurielle's eyes rested on the last person in the room. She stood apart from the others in the far back near the opposite corner. She was a half-elf female named Zarha and again, Yurielle knew the least about this woman. Though, she noted that her eyes constantly darting to Creven. She did this so often that Yurielle knew that there must be some story there between the two of them.

All of that would have to wait however, for just at that moment Justarius started to convulse on the bed as his eyes rolled back into his skull. Jenna started to sob in Dalamar's arms and they all watched as the man went limp. The dark elf released her just as Raistlin lifted his spell and Justarius's head fell back onto the pillows, blood trickled from the corners of his eyes and mouth, his daughter tried in vain to dab away the red liquid.

Yurielle watched in a numb stupor as Raistlin's hand went to his eyes, covering them as he stumbled back away from the dying man. She watched as Jenna clutched at her father, sobbing his name, begging for him not to die on her. As if drawn to the death lingering on the bed, Yurielle knelt beside it, her own ears ringing from her pounding heart at the sight.

“Please...” Jenna cried as she held her father's hand, her eyes looked up at Yurielle as the other woman came to her side. “Is there... anything?”

Yurielle shook her head, uncertain. “I...” her eyes were torn between the dying man and the archmage who had backed to the far wall, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to sort through the memories he had taken from the red robe. With the wild magic, Yurielle could see that Raistlin was putting up walls to contain the memories, trying to keep them separate from his own thoughts.

“Can Krynn's magic help?” the distraught woman asked, grasping her father's hand in hers. The man had stopped convulsing; his breathing was erratic, face even paler than before.

Yurielle tore her eyes from the woman's pleading face and to the dying man. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out to take Justarius's other hand. Squeezing slightly, there was no answer from him, his skin was cold and clammy and Yurielle could feel his pulse weaken as she held him.

Death was near.

Yurielle closed her eyes to feel the wild magic and it answered her as it always did. She felt the pulse of everything around her, could feel the moons magic, and could see the weave of the mages in the room. She felt each of their essences and what they offered to the weave.

Yurielle could almost see the man's lifeline, his connection to the cosmos, as a faint glimmer of red light. It was thinning by the moment as his consciousness was leaving him and his soul was ready to depart. She could sense at the very edge of her probing that the gods were waiting to accept him to them. But gods were not her business. She was no cleric, and besides the magic granted by the moons, she had no real need to rely on them anymore.

As Yurielle focused she suddenly sensed a presence kneeling beside her. This presence did not belong to a god.

Suddenly her twin was there. That face that mirrored her own was smiling at her, _'Death is not your area of expertise sister. Do not follow this course. Return. Return before you are dragged down with him.'_

Yurielle felt herself sob, _'Ariallah...!'_

 _'Shhh sister,'_ her twin soothed and laid her hands over Yurielle's. _'Go. Go and live for the both of us. Do not attempt this again. The wild magic does not heal, only balances. Your path is not here. I will come to you when you need me. Go!'_ And with that Yurielle's other half all but shoved her backwards, severing the link that Yurielle had made with the dying man's soul.

Yurielle came rushing back to her body with a violent jerk and air rushed into her lungs painfully as she gasped. Opening her eyes she found that she had collapsed onto the floor next to the death bed.

From the look on everyone's faces, something alarming had just happened.

Raistlin hovered over her along with the two white robes. Sisne helped her to sit up as Yurielle rubbed the back of her head, wincing at the lump she felt there.

“What happened?” the other woman asked. “You gave us a scare!”

“Justarius...?” Yurielle asked, her eyes darting to the silent figure on the bed.

Sisne shook her head sadly. Yurielle could hear sobbing now on the other side of the bed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that several of the rooms other occupants were leaving now that she had regained consciousness.

Yurielle turned to find Raistlin kneeling next to her, his eyes were hard, his jaw set tight. He looked upset.

“Can you stand?” Sisne asked.

“I think so,” Yurielle replied and the woman helped her to her feet.

The Master of the Tower also rose, as he did his eyes roamed over the scene of death. Jenna lay across her father's empty body. Dalamar stood behind the woman, the elf not offering any comfort besides his presence as he let her mourn. The dark elf met the eyes of his Shalafi and they exchanged a brief and silent understanding between the two of them before Raistlin turned and ushered the remaining two women out of the room to join Geldwyn on the landing. The other new occupants of the Tower were milling about as well, waiting to hear what had happened.

“Thank you Sisne,” Yurielle patted the other woman's arm once they exited the room. “I will be fine.”

“Go and rest,” Raistlin's soft voice addressed everyone. “Tomorrow I wish to meet everyone down in the entry hall. We have much to discuss and learn from one another. But for now, I know that we are all exhausted from the battle and affected by the loss of Justarius. Tonight we mourn those who are gone, and for the magehood. In the morning we plan on where we go from here. You are welcome to stay here within my Tower again this night. If you need food, there is a kitchen on the level below us but I trust Dalamar has spoken of this already?”

They all nodded.

“Very well,” Raistlin said. “I only ask, for today at least, that you not wander the Tower. I know you must be curious, but there are safe guards in place that I do not have the strength to reverse. Meet me in the morning on the ground level an hour after sunrise. We will reconvene then.”

The other mages all bowed slightly to the archmage before retiring to their separate chambers. Each and every one of them looked on the verge of collapse. Indeed, no one had the strength to do much else than rest and reflect on what had happened and what it could mean.

Raistlin watched the new comers as they all turned and went to their respective rooms. This was the last thing that he had expected to happen within his Tower, having more mages around him. But in that moment he found that he wasn't as angry or annoyed as he thought he should be with this new development. Surprisingly he was quite the opposite. The thought of allies of his own, learning with him and his apprentices, here in this secret Tower away from the Conclave, was strangely exciting to the archmage. It filled him with new prospects and ventures. Being surrounded by like-minded individuals was something that Raistlin Majere had always craved. But he knew he had to tread lightly with this new change.

Yurielle likewise was watching as the other mages disappeared into their rooms. However, unlike Raistlin, her mind was not on the future and on thoughts of allies. Her thoughts were on the past. They were filled with memories of the man who she had just watched die.

Justarius had been a father figure to her since she had come to Wayreth. Out of the three Heads of the Conclave, the red robed man had always kept the farthest distance from her as she grew. Now he was dead and his memories rested inside the mind of Raistlin.

Yurielle shuddered at the thought of what the archmage would now know about her. But she also knew that it would take Raistlin some time to go through the memories if he so chose to. That or he would have to find a way to remove them before they began to force themselves through the barriers he had put up around them. Memory magic was difficult and dangerous and often drove people insane if they were not able to control it.

A warm hand suddenly took Yurielle by the arm, halting her worried thoughts. Raistlin turned them to the far side of the landing and to begin ascending the stairs with her next to him. In silence they climbed several levels towards the landing in which their own rooms were located. Reaching it, he released her and turned to face her.

“Are you alright?” Raistlin asked, a hint of concern coloring his usually calm voice.

“Yes... yes I think so,” she said softly, her hand went to rub her forehead.

“What happened?”

Yurielle shrugged, “I don't really know... I dove into the wild magic to see if I could heal Justarius...” her brow furrowed and she grew terribly still.

“What is it Yurielle?” Raistlin asked, coming closer when she didn't continue, her eyes were far off and distant.

“Ariallah...” she breathed. “I.... I saw... I saw my twin Raistlin!” her eyes met his. “She was there! She was next to me!” Yurielle took a step closer to him. “What happened on this end? You all looked terrified when I opened my eyes.”

Raistlin took a breath and shook his head, “You knelt beside Justarius, your hand in his.... you closed your eyes, and then you just fell backwards. You weren't breathing,” his face paled slightly, “you looked as though you yourself were dying. We had just reached your side when you suddenly gasped and came to.”

“That fast huh?” she asked. “It seemed much longer for me.”

“Yes that fast! But still far too long,” Raistlin stated. He acted as though he wanted to reach out to her, to take her hand or touch her in some way, but he held back. “You said you saw your sister?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Ariallah is there... on the other side where the wild magic is held in balance between life and death. She said that I had no place there, that I should never attempt to do what I was trying ever again. Krynn does not heal, nor bring back the dead.... I was... being drawn to the other side with him,” she gave a shiver and wrapped her arms around herself.

“Then you best listen to your sister and never attempt that again,” he scolded her, but not harshly. He looked relieved.

“She was there in the Grove too. I connected to her during the fight,” she whispered. “Why is she there in the realm of the dead Raistlin? Why hasn't she passed on?”

The archmage was silent for many moments. He had no reply or explanation to offer her, instead he simply said, “Twins have a bond Yurielle. One that not even death can break.”

Yurielle squeezed her arms around herself, “When Goldmoon was healing me Krynn came to me as well as the gods. She took the face of my sister and said that Ariallah was my balance in death. I... I don't understand what it means but it's been three times now that I've connected to her through death. First with the arcane-hunter, then in the Grove, now Justarius...” her slender hands went to rub at her eyes. “Why can't I just have a moment to sit and think?”

Raistlin couldn't help but smirk to himself as he watched her. “Indeed Yurielle, since you've come here, life has been nothing short of entertaining.”

Yurielle gave a nervous chuckle, “It has been a weird couple of days huh?” she asked and finally met his eyes.

He gave a snort, “Indeed.”

“You still look tired,” Yurielle stated then as she took in his face. “I didn't kick you last night did I?” she asked with a teasing smirk.

A whisper of a smile touched Raistlin's lips, “No,” he answered, thinking back to the note he had left in the Sage's Rest, so many months ago. “No, you did not kick me.”

“Good,” she smiled then before being forced to suppress a yawn behind her hand.

“You are weary as well,” he stated. “Get some rest Yurielle. I fear the next few days may be just as 'weird' for all of us.”

“Indeed,” she replied, using his usual comeback. Then, taking him by surprise, Yurielle leaned forward and kissed the corner of his mouth, not fully on his lips but right next to them. Drawing away quickly she whispered a quiet, “Sleep well Raistlin.” She hurried passed him to her door, opening it she turned and gave him a a small smile before closing it between them.

Raistlin stood there on the landing, staring at the dark wood for many long minutes after she departed. The tips of his golden fingers were at the corner of his mouth where her lips had touched him. For the life of him, he was trying in vain to keep that new feeling locked down inside of him. But instead he was finding that he was failing miserably.

 

***

 

The next day dawned clear and bright. The winter morning was cold and frosted the dark Tower in a layer of ice and snow that had fallen during the night.

The mages all rose and met in the entry hall. The first order of business was for Raistlin to get to know the new potential residents of his Tower. Yurielle and Dalamar sat on either side of him at the table that had been brought into the wide room. Each new mage sat long the other side of it, facing the three as Raistlin endlessly drilled each on their views and beliefs, on their magical abilities and personal goals.

And most importantly, why they were here and what they expected to accomplish.

Yurielle was a valuable source of information and opinions for Raistlin, but he knew that she, with her good nature, would almost certainly see past these people's flaws and find something admirable in each. Dalamar was the one who countered that, and once again Raistlin was thankful for the wily and crafty dark elf.

The only one that Raistlin had misgivings on was the half-elf Zarha. She seemed only to be there for the knowledge and secrets that the Tower could offer her. True to her black robes, she had a hungry look in her eyes that craved only the darkest secrets. She did confess however, that she and Creven had a history which the dark skinned man confirmed. But it seemed as though things had not been going well between the two, and Raistlin wondered who had followed who here.

It seemed that odd couple was not the only pair now in the Tower, for Jenna laid bare and confessed before the Master of the Past and the Present her affairs with his apprentice Dalamar. The elf had already confessed as much to Raistlin, but now the archmage was fully able to question them. Convinced that Dalamar had told him the truth, that the elf's relationship with Justarius's daughter was simply an unfortunate circumstance, Raistlin laid the suspicions that Dalamar had betrayed him to rest.

Satisfied, for the most part, that none of these new comers were outwardly plotting his personal demise, Raistlin then laid out the rules for the Tower and where the newcomers could and could not go.

For now he would only permit them to go as high as the library, but he allowed them all full access to it and all the books and scrolls within, in return for their absolute loyalty to him and to the magic that bound them all. Like him, these new mages here all seemed to view the structure of the current magehood as a deeply flawed and outdated system. Even the white robes seemed like they would be a good fit here and so, Raistlin allowed them all to stay.

The archmage's knowledge and expertise was at their disposal if he could rely on them to help him in any task that he may require their own skills and knowledge for. He also made sure that they understood that each and every one of them was required to clean and help in the upkeep and maintenance of their living spaces and of the Tower itself. Duties would be shared amongst them all without complaint.

He also allowed them and encouraged them to explore and help him decide what to do with the two smaller towers. The minarets were in desperate need of repair. But both of them held many rooms and halls that would be useful to the new order of magic that would surly arise in the days to come.

It was then Yurielle's turn to explain to the newcomers about herself. She explained to them about her life at Wayreth and what the heads of the Conclave had done and lied to her about. She explained to them about her magic and how she held both the moons and wild magic within her being. She explained how she viewed the magic. How she saw the weave of all magic, and how her wild magic could break it or strengthen it.

Yurielle assured them that the wild magic was one of balance and she had no idea if there would be more like her. The gods and Krynn had asked her to take on this role but she did not know if others would awaken to this gift as well or, if they did, if their magic would manifest in the same ways as hers. She also had no way of knowing if this was the first days of a fourth order of magic in the world.

Hours later they finally ended their meeting and Raistlin showed the new ones the grounds as Jenna and Dalamar went to prepare her father's body for burial. Yurielle did not join any of them; instead she busied herself with gathering eggs and milking the goats and their one ornery cow, before going to the servant's kitchen that Dalamar and Raistlin had been using to feed themselves. She needed something to do, so she began to bake loaves of bread and a tray of cookies.

Never one who was required to use such a skill, nor had she ever really perfected it, Yurielle knew that she wasn't very good at it. But she didn't care; she merely needed something to do. She just wanted to get away from everyone and keep her hands and mind busy with simple menial tasks. As she worked, she hummed softly to herself in order to soothe her worried nerves with the sound of her own voice.

Besides, they had a lot more mouths to feed around here now and Dalamar was just one elf. Raistlin supposedly could cook, but Yurielle had yet to see him lift a finger to make his own meals while the dark elf was around. Idly she wondered if they would need to clean out and fix up a second servants kitchen or if they would need to begin using the main one down the way from the entry hall on the main floor. That kitchen was large and had several ovens for baking and it was big enough to feed a hundred mouths easily.

Would the Tower ever have so many occupants that it would be needed? Her mind began to get lost in thoughts of students and apprentices. Perhaps some of them would come, wielding the wild magic alongside the arcane. Could such a thing ever come to pass? Or would the wizards shun those like her? Would they continue to hunt the wild mages and kill them? What would Raistlin do if it came to that?

“There you are,” the archmage's voice irrupted her inner musings as she pulled out the tray of cookies from the small brick oven. “I was wondering where you had disappeared to. I didn't know that you could bake,” he commented as he came up to the table that she had set the sweets on to cool.

“I can't,” she replied, hands on her hips. “Well...” she shrugged, “not really. I never had to at Wayreth.”

He arched an eyebrow at her, “Then why the sudden delve into this new field? You're not suddenly deciding to throw away magic and become domesticated are you?” he asked as he inspected the items on the tray.

They smelled good.

Yurielle laughed lightly, “Me being domesticated? That’s about as likely as Nuitari taking up flower arranging.” Stretching her back she wiped her hand across her cheek to free a stray hair from her face, the act leaving a thin trail of flour across her skin. “I just needed something to keep me busy... to keep my mind off of everything that's happened.” She explained as she untied her apron and tossed it back over the stool that she had found it on. “Plus, I just wanted some cookies. Can't blame a girl can you?”

Raistlin chuckled at her. Reaching out a hand he brushed the flour from her face. “No I suppose not.” He quietly eyed her a moment, unsure of what to say. Instead he asked, “How's your head?”

“My head?” she asked, grateful for the distraction from the feel of his hand on her cheek.

He nodded, “The black moon is full this day. Do you not feel it?”

Her brow furrowed. “No. No I don't!” Yurielle's eyes widened and she darted to the row of small windows at the edge of the room. They were hazy and frost covered but she could see out of them well enough as she scanned the sky for the black moon.

Raistlin silently followed behind her.

“There it is,” she pointed to the dark black ring in the fading daylight. From her vantage point she could barely see it through the edge of the glass. But it was still there, still visible to her eyes. A void in the dusky blue sky.

Raistlin came to her side glanced at it and nodded, “So you still see it. But it seems that it does not cause you pain?”

Yurielle blinked, “No it doesn't! Even looking at it before would hurt my eyes...” A smile spread across her face. “Either your ward works better here than anywhere else, or Nuitari can no longer cause me suffering!”

Tearing his eyes from the dark moon he regarded her quietly as she turned and met his gaze with her dazzling smile. That warm feeling crept back into his chest and he turned from her suddenly. Slowly he returned to the table where the cookies rested.

The smile on Yurielle's face dropped slightly, she was unable to understand why Raistlin suddenly seemed like he was distancing himself from her. She watched him settle onto a stool by the table, this wasn't like his usual moodiness. Shrugging to herself she joined him just as he was attempting to pilfer a cookie from the tray.

Lightly she slapped his hand, “They're not cooled yet!” she admonished.

He glared at her but it was quickly disarmed by her smirk. “If the Master of this Tower wants a cookie, he gets his cookie,” he tried to sound menacing but it was more of a pout.

Her tinkling laughter was too much and the archmage felt himself smile at her playful mirth.

'Dammit,' was all he could think as her lighthearted ways made that feeling inside of him try it's hardest to come forth again.

“Fine,” she giggled. “Eat your damn cookie. But I don't want to hear it if you burn that sly tongue of yours.”

Raistlin picked up a cookie and studied it, “Sly one...” he murmured, his thoughts going far back into the past during the days of his youth. To the names his peers had called him.

“Hmmm?” Yurielle hummed as she helped herself to one of her creations. She eyed him when he made no reply, he simply just studied the cookie in his long golden fingers, spinning it slowly. Taking a small bite of her own cookie, Yurielle found that it was soft and still slightly warm with a hint of molasses. She chewed thoughtfully as she observed Raistlin's sullen silence.

“So,” she asked carefully after she swallowed her bite, “what did you seek me out for on this fine afternoon archmagus?”

Raistlin shrugged his lean shoulders in answer and finally took a bite of his cookie. “This is good,” he stated at it in his fingers, still not looking at her. “Dry. But good.”

She laughed, “I'm glad the Master of the Tower approves! I wouldn't have ever taken you for someone with a sweet tooth Raistlin!”

“It's what feeds my wit,” he continued sarcastically as he took hold of a second cookie.

Yurielle could only smile as she watched him eat what she had made. He truly seemed to be enjoying it and the realization that she could do something for him made her happier than she had been in several days. She watched him silently, her heart beating in her chest

Suddenly she realized that this was the first time that the two of them had been with alone with one another. There was so much that she wanted to say to him, so many things to ask him and to talk about. But Yurielle found that she didn't have the courage to bring any of them up. So instead, she was simply content to watch Raistlin enjoy the cookies in silence. There was something oddly captivating in watching the golden skinned man eat something as innocent as a cookie.

After a few moments of enjoying their treats in silence she spoke up softly. “I haven't thanked you Raistlin.”

“For...?” he asked, helping himself to yet another treat. He must have eaten a half dozen of them by now, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. It had been years since he had eaten something like this, and the fact that Yurielle had made them, seemed to make them all the more delicious.

“For helping me... for saving me,” she indicated the Tower around them, “for giving me a home.”

His eyes met hers now, “You already thanked me, and again I say that there is no need Yurielle. Your life and freedom are thanks enough,” he told her, same as before.

Yurielle nodded and lowered her eyes from him. She did remember that he had said that, “I have nothing to offer you in return...” she spoke softly. “I know you said that my life and my freedom are thanks and reward enough but... I must give you _something_ Raistlin. But I only have myself to offer you... if...” she gulped. It was now or never. “If you'll have me.” Yurielle knew that heat flushed her face again. She hated how her emotions seemed tied to her skin, but she had to say it.

Yurielle knew that she could not live without Raistlin Majere. She needed him, in more ways than one. The way he looked at her, the way he touched her, how he had kissed her... Yurielle was pretty sure that he needed her as well. Yet even if he refused to acknowledge that he had feelings for her, she knew that he could not deny the sexual tension between the two of them.

It was no use ignoring it any more.

If she would have looked up at that moment, Yurielle would have seen the greatest archmage of the day with his mouth slack jawed open, a half-eaten cookie raised midway to his gaping mouth. His eyes were wide and disbelieving as he watched again as her skin flamed.

She had just offered herself to him!

Yurielle's eyes were still locked on her lap, her fingers played with the edge of her shirt. “Please say something,” she whimpered when the silence stretched on and the air grew thick with the agony of anticipating his reply.

It took several moments before Raistlin could form words, for his throat was suddenly tight and dry. Finally he lowered the cookie back to the tray, half eaten and now cold.

Slowly, tentatively, he reached out a hand and he was thankful that she did not see its tremble, and touched her chin. The contact was feather light, but her head rose at his bidding. Her eyes carefully met his, they looked embarrassed and uncertain. Not because of what she offered, Raistlin could see that she was serious, but because she thought he would not accept her.

What she didn't realize, was that he _wanted_ to accept her. But... he couldn't bring himself to.

“Your life,” his voice was rough, “and your freedom Yurielle... for now... _that_ is enough.”

Hurt and confusion flashed through her eyes and she tried to pull away from him in shame. Raistlin's fingers caught the side of her head before she could retreat. She stilled under his touch, but was stiff and unsure, frozen like a rabbit trapped by a snake.

“I am most blessed Yurielle,” he said quietly, his voice nothing but a whisper, “if I have indeed caught your eye.”

Those indigo orbs softened and she relaxed slightly.

This was the hardest weakness Raistlin had ever come across and with each moment next to her, he was sure that he would ultimately come to fail. He knew that he would succumb to her. Would it be so bad? Perhaps not. But in that moment, as he stared at her beautiful, hopeful face, Raistlin Majere knew that he wasn't ready yet. There simply was too much going on and so instead he offered to both her and to himself, “If you need to give me any other reward in this moment then give me patience.”

“Patience...?” she repeated.

Raistlin held her questioning gaze. “Yes. Please Yurielle,” he said earnestly.

“Then you have it Raistlin,” that voice of hers caressed his name.

He nodded and removed his hand from her face. Turning he returned to his abandoned cookie as she took a slow breath beside him. Focusing all his attention back to the sweet, Raistlin nibbled at it in brooding silence. His mind once again struggling to even comprehend that she could possibly desire him in such a way. There had to be more to her request! Was offering him her body her way of getting something from him?

No... Raistlin knew this wasn't the case. Yurielle was many things, but manipulative was not one of them. She claimed to be pure, untouched by any man, so her offer was not one to be taken lightly.

Confusion was Raistlin's companion now as he brooded, and his mind whirled with a thousand thoughts all at once. There was no reason for her to do what she had done. Unless the woman truly did care for him.

Him, this dark despicable thing that he was. It made no sense!

Yurielle got up from her stool to check on the bread loaves within the oven. “Paladine's god damn eyebrows!” she cussed as she quickly retrieved the thick mitts to remove the trays that now held half burnt and shriveled loaves of bread. They didn't look like they had risen properly Raistlin noticed with a glance, as she slammed the tray on the counter beside the oven.

His moodiness evaporated and Raistlin couldn't help but chuckle softly to himself, “Old Fizban would find that one amusing I'm sure.”

“Pardon?” she glared at him then turned back to the failed loaves. She watched with a groan as they began to collapse back in on themselves forming pathetic burnt lumps on the bottom of the tray.

“May I offer a word of advice?” Raistlin said breaking through her irritated grumbles.

Yurielle turned to him to find him staring at her with quite the amused expression on his face,

“Stick to magic.”

Giving him a loud “Humph!” she slapped the mitts on the table beside the failed loaves, sending a cloud of flour right back up at her. She scowled and wiped her tunic furiously as she plopped back down on the stool next to the archmage.

He held out a cookie for her, “But, if you must bake, then bake these. I find that I rather like them.”

Yurielle snatched it from his long fingers with a glare and shoved it into her mouth, giving him a petulant look that only amused him more. “Goldmoon mentioned your brother when she was here.”

Raistlin's amusement vanished.

“Did you know that you're an uncle Raistlin?”

He scoffed, “I'm sure that I've been an uncle since that oaf hit puberty.”

She blinked at him, “Why do you say that?”

“Because the man never could keep his hands out of a woman’s skirt,” he scowled and stood up. “There's probably bastard Majere's strung across Ansalon,” he waved his hand disgustedly and turned to leave. All this talk of physical offerings as well as the reminder of his twin's lifelong escapades, paired with the undeniable tension between Yurielle and himself, put Raistlin in a very foul mood.

“Where are you going?” Yurielle asked as he began to leave. She managed to move fast enough to catch his hand in hers. “I'm sorry I brought up your brother. I just thought maybe you'd be interested to know is all...”

Raistlin sighed heavily and turned to her. “Yurielle,” his voice was soft yet cold, “I know that your question comes from a place of good within your heart. But you MUST understand that I do not have such a place! I do not care what my brother is doing with his life. So I will forgive you this one transgression. However, trust me when I say this Yurielle,” he yanked his hand from hers, his voice was like ice now, “I will not tolerate further reminders from my past, no matter how innocent you may think them. My tolerance only goes so far, even with you!” With that he turned and stalked out of the room.

“Raistlin!” she tried to get him to stop but instead she watched helplessly as he stomped off, leaving her alone in the small kitchen. “Well shit,” she swore to herself. Again she knew that this had been the first time that the two of them were alone and she had hoped they would actually have a chance to speak to one another. And here she made a huge mess of things.

It was so typical of her.

But Yurielle also knew better than to pressure Raistlin. He was not the type to open up easily. But during these past few days Yurielle had seen so many new sides to Raistlin. He indeed had a tender and caring side, this he proved to her by how he had been steadfast in staying by her bedside. She had also seen that look in his eyes... one of loneliness and longing.

Yurielle understood that Raistlin Majere was a man torn between being human and needing to be master of everything. She could see that he did this to such an extent that he was willing to refuse himself the basic human necessity of physical and emotional connections. But she was also sure that he wanted such things. However, when faced with them, he seemed terrified and always drew away.

Raistlin Majere seemed a mental and emotional wreck and it baffled Yurielle to no end.

'Well I'm not afraid of such things!' she thought to herself as she returned to the counter top.

A woman with a passionate heart, Yurielle knew what she wanted. A silent and cursed mage had walked right into her light within the crypts of the Great Library for a reason. The gods themselves wanted her with him, part of her own Test had been choosing this path to walk beside him.

What did that path all entail though?

Yurielle had no idea and the fact that Raistlin refused to even acknowledge what was growing between them was downright annoying to her. Frustrated, Yurielle spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up the kitchen and feeding her failed loaves of bread to the animals in the stables before retiring early to her room.

She then endeavored to sort through her new herbs and carefully concocted Raistlin another tincture. However, not knowing what the next few days would bring, she placed it in her own window to steep.

As she worked, she questioned why the gods wanted her here with him and tried in vain to figure out once again if what she was feeling was simply the results of 'infatuation' or if...

Suddenly everything snapped into sharp focus.

The realization made her pause, even as a smile spread across her face.

Yurielle knew then that she didn't just care for the Hourglass Mage.

No.

Mind, body, heart and soul. Yurielle knew in that instant, through the very core of her being, she knew, had _always_ known, that she was deeply in love with Raistlin Majere.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to take a moment to again thank everyone for sticking with me in this story. I'm doing my best to make it as good as I possibly can.  
> You're comments are always encouraging to me and are greatly appreciated. I feel this story in many ways is just as much all of yours as it is mine and your feedback feeds my enthusiasm and drive to keep going.  
> :D


	30. State of the Magehood

The next few days were just as weird as they had expected.

Yurielle found herself in the background of several meetings that were called into order by the leaders of the City of Palanthas, as well as by the remains of the magehood. The nobles of Palanthas demanded to know what had happened outside of the Shoikan Grove and the remaining members of the Conclave expected answers as to why the heads of each Order were now dead.

The situation and general feeling of everyone inside the Tower in Palanthas was tense. Half of them expected some kind of retaliation or another attempt to storm the Tower. Only Raistlin seemed to keep a calm head as he continued his negotiations, both magical as well as physical, with those wanting answers.

As the days went on, Yurielle felt her own mood begin to darken. She was becoming weary from being questioned by everyone, annoyed at being constantly interrogated and prodded for answers that she could not give, and most of all, she was frustrated with Raistlin. Frustrated as well as confused, for he seemed to have grown unexpectedly distant and cold to her.

The archmage was always near her during the meetings that he was able to arrange, but he rarely spoke to her. When his eyes met hers, his golden gaze was detached and neutral, as if she were just another person there to observe the proceedings. Yurielle's suspicions only seemed to be confirmed when there was one whole day in which she stood next to both him and Dalamar on the edge of the Grove while they met with the cities leaders and the Hourglass Mage had barely acknowledged her.

It was during this gathering in particular that Yurielle realized that the archmage had an important standing with the nobles of Palanthas. He had attended many gatherings of the city council in the past and because of this, Raistlin Majere was well known and seemingly respected among the cities elites.

She also learned that they tolerated him out of necessity, and Raistlin in return used them for his own personal gains, ever holding his power over them with subtle threats and reminders of what he could do to their fair city if they crossed him.

The nobles feared Raistlin even as they respected his power. The Tower that he claimed for his own was a stain upon the city, a black shadow at its very heart and if they angered the mage within, the nobles were certain that the stain would only grow. This is what they feared most when they saw that trees from within the Grove now sat farther out into the streets.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the leaders of Palanthas were eventually satisfied that Raistlin Majere was not attempting to expand the dark Grove or further his influence in the city. This acceptance was only after Yurielle called back the trees to their original spots before their very eyes.

After a few more curt words, the nobles left the mages to sort out their problems with the remaining members of the Conclave. But only after making Raistlin all but swear that if any mage battle would be fought, it would not involve or be fought within the city. They also made it perfectly clear that his actions were being watched, not only by their guards, but also by mages within the city that were now reporting directly to the council of Palanthas.

This only furthered to aggravate the archmage's dark mood and he seemed to withdraw further away from her and ignore any offer of help on Yurielle's part. She was only to attend specific meetings to answer questions and explain her side if needed, nothing more.

Yurielle was unnerved by this change in Raistlin, the cold and aloof archmage seemed almost like a stranger to her as the days wore on. She did not understand this distance that was suddenly opening between them and each passing day she became more and more confused when he refused to regard her with little more than a nod in greeting if they saw one another.

She had really thought that they had started to connect, that he was slowly opening up to her, even a little. That is, until the event in the kitchen. After that, everything had taken such a dramatic turn.

Was bringing up his twin that bad of an occurrence? Did she do something else wrong? Yurielle spent every moment of her free time trying to sort through her muddled thoughts. She knew that Raistlin had asked for her patience, but this coldness coming from him seemed almost extreme.

Then one night, as Yurielle sat alone inside of her room working on her spellbook, the thought struck her. Was it because she had openly offered herself to him? It had come out of her mouth in the spur of the moment but Yurielle couldn't deny that she was attracted to the archmage. Not just attracted to him, Yurielle knew her feelings were far, far deeper than that. She had hoped that Raistlin was similarly attracted to her and that maybe, he had feelings for her as well.

But Yurielle had utterly failed to remember his curse.

Did Raistlin find her disgusting? Was he sickened by the thought of being with someone who appeared like a corpse to him? How could she have been so stupid and careless to think he'd ever want someone that only reminded him of rot and death?

Mortified by what she had said, Yurielle then consciously began to distance herself from Raistlin as well. She found every excuse she could think of to avoid him except for those times that he needed her at a meeting. Now it had been two days since she had even seen the archmage and Yurielle began to wonder if she had been reading too far into his previous actions.

Had she imagined his affections?

No. No Yurielle was certain that Raistlin felt something for her. Maybe he was just as confused about everything as she was. Perhaps they both just needed some distance right now.

Besides, Yurielle knew what had happened within the magehood was of far more importance than what may or may not be developing between them. And so, Yurielle exercised her patience and focused her energy on what needed to be done around the Tower.

As the days neared a week, Yurielle spent one of them with Geldwyn, Zarha, and Triandal reinforcing and repairing the wards and shields around the Tower that had been damaged during the battle. They did this to ensure their own safety if any surprise attack was launched against them.

Thankfully no attack came, for the whole of the magehood was shocked at the current events and unnerved by the rumors that were spreading like wildfire. Most mages just wanted an explanation and answers to what had happened and Raistlin was doing his best to quell any rising fears.

As she spent time outside around and within the Grove, a strange sensation seemed to prickle at the back of Yurielle's mind. There was something that seemed to be watching her but she couldn't explain what. The arcane-hunter was there, always plodding along behind her through the snow as she walked the perimeter with the others. The only reason that Yurielle could explain for this strange sensation were the eyes of the dead within the Grove as they watched them hungrily. However, the dead always kept their distance so the mages continued their work without incident and Yurielle quickly forgot about the strange feeling.

After the week had finally passed, Raistlin, with the help of the new inhabitants of the Tower, was able to form a tentative truce with the remaining Conclave. And so, all wizards of every Order were then summoned to gather at the Tower of High Sorcery at Wayreth. There would be both a meeting as well as a funeral for Justarius, who was to be buried with honor at the Tower he had served for many years. Nothing was left of the leaders of the other robes, but they would be held in remembrance as well. Along with all those that had fallen during that fateful day.

 

***

 

Yurielle shuffled nervously in the entry hall in the Tower of Palanthas, watching Raistlin and Dalamar as they prepped the area for a portal that would take them to Wayreth. The two mages were altering the spell so that they could send messages through the portal that would be linked between them all. In the event of an ambush, those remaining on the opposite side would know immediately and be able to close it.

She stood next to Sisne, the older woman that had been the only friendly company for Yurielle since this whole mess had started. The white robe was talkative and despite her obvious discomfort at living within the Tower - being surrounded by so much black magic - the woman was eager to learn about Yurielle and the two soon became fast companions. Yurielle never really had a friend before and she found comfort in the kindly woman. Though older than Yurielle by over a decade, Sisne's personality meshed well with her own and she was grateful for the distraction from her confusing thoughts regarding Raistlin.

“Don't fret so much child,” Sisne patted Yurielle's arm gently as Raistlin and Dalamar were finishing their spell work. “We will make it out of this in one piece. Solinari is with us, I can feel it.”

Yurielle couldn’t trust herself to speak because her stomach was twisting itself in knots, making her nauseous. She only offered the older woman a small smile and a nod.

Returning her eyes to the weave of magic that filled the entryway, Yurielle found comfort in the familiar golden stars that seemed to fill the space as Raistlin added his power to the spell.

The area hummed loudly to her ears as suddenly a tear opened within the space between the two black robes. They had successfully opened the portal and it now sang with magical life in the middle of the room. From where she stood Yurielle could see through the pocket of space and viewed the courtyard at Wayreth on the other side.

Desperately Yurielle did not want to go back there and she watched with growing unease as Zarha and Geldwyn went through portal first. They were soon followed by Dalamar. Raistlin turned and met her anxious gaze. He held her eyes for a moment before following through himself. Those hourglass eyes betrayed nothing of the archmage's thoughts but for a fleeting second Yurielle thought she saw them soften. As if silently reassuring her.

Creven, Jenna, and Triandal followed next, bearing between them a litter that held the bound body of Justarius. His corpse had been wrapped in a dark red cloth. Yurielle was grateful for this, for no amount of cleaning or dressing of the dead body could keep the blood from soaking through and showing. Red helped to hide the gruesome reminder while other spellwork had been woven over the corpse to keep him from rotting too fast.

“ _It is safe,”_ Raistlin's voice floated into their heads. _“You may follow.”_

“Ready?” Sisne asked, looping her arm through Yurielle's.

She could only nod meekly as the they stepped through the portal together.

The magical weave of the spell felt like walking through cold spiderwebs. Not entirely unpleasant, but it still managed to make Yurielle shudder at the feel of it against her skin. Once through the portal her eyes were greeted with the familiar sights of the Tower of High Sorcery at Wayreth. The rest of her companions all stood before her in a semi circle.

Opposite their tiny group, stood of rows upon rows of other mages, all gathered for this emergency meeting. Raistlin had agreed to holding the meeting first while the safety of the portal was readily at hand behind them in case something went wrong.

Yurielle could see that Jenna, Triandal, and Creven had already relinquished the body of Justarius to other mages of the red order, who were now carrying the litter off out of sight. She could also see Jenna's reaction to this. It was clear that she wanted to stay with her father, but she had gone renegade and had sided with the Tower at Palanthas, and because of this she was unsure if she was welcome here.

They all were wondering the same thing.

Tension hung in the air for many heartbeats as the vast gathering and the small renegade group stood face to face. All mages gathered there beneath the Tower, were unsure of what was to happen next.

“Welcome Raistlin Majere and those who travel beside the Master of the Past and Present,” a woman in red robes stated finally. “And welcome back Yurielle. We know that this it is hard for you to return home.”

Yurielle could feel hundreds of eyes fall on her and she suddenly felt sick. Swallowing hard she stiffly nodded. “Master Lillimora. It is good to see you,” she replied and was thankful her voice was stronger than she felt.

“Please, be at ease fellow mages,” a white robe stated. “For it is forbidden to wield the magic against another of the craft here upon these hallowed grounds.”

Again, Yurielle felt eyes upon her. She had, very recently, spilled blood here in order to defend herself. She refused to meet anyone’s gaze, instead she stared straight ahead, wishing she'd just disappear. If Krynn wanted her, the planet was welcome to open wide and swallow her whole right then and there.

“That goes for you as well Yurielle,” the speaker continued. “For, though we are now aware of what transpired here recently, new information has come to light since the passing of the former heads. We wish to hear your side of the story so that everything is set right. We also wish to hear exactly what transpired at Palanthas. What happened that took the lives of all three heads of our orders? Why is the balance now in such jeopardy?”

It was Raistlin who responded to this question. “All information will be given freely. For we have nothing to hide from our brothers and sisters in the magic.”

“Then, by all means,” a woman in black spoke up. “Let us start by hearing your tale Yurielle. For it seems strange indeed.”

Raistlin turned to her now and motioned her forward to stand beside him. His eyes held hers for a heartbeat and, within those golden orbs, Yurielle again saw his silent reassurance. As she stepped up next to him, his hand brushed hers as if by accident. She however knew that it wasn't. A tightness filled her throat, for she understood. He was beside her, she could do this. That was his silent message to her.

She would try.

Yurielle took a steadying breath and kept her hands within the sleeves of her robes to hide their shaking. When she was ready, her voice rang out, clear as a bell. “I am Yurielle and I have lived most of my life here within this Tower. I was raised here, taught the arcane magic here. And I was imprisoned here!”

Murmurs rumbled through the gathering at this accusation.

“I am not like you!” she declared. “You've all sensed this from me yourselves. Yes the arcane runs through my veins, but it is not my only power. We've all heard of wild magic. The remnant power held within the planet after its forming. It is the essence of the cosmos, that which makes the wheel of life and death. We all believed that with the advent of the gods coming to Krynn they tamed this magic and taught us, their loyal followers, how to harness the magic. We all have thought that we mastered this strange power, shaped it into what we know now. Anything outside of our magic was below us but his is not so!

“I stand before you now, brothers and sisters in the arcane, to tell you that the wild magic is indeed real and different. It is as real as the magic granted to us by our gods, but this power does not come from them. It comes from Krynn herself!”

Another rumble rippled through the gathering. This was heresy.

“I hold such power within me! I am of the wild ambient magic!”

Shouts of 'Impossible!' and 'Traitor!' could be heard from within the assembly.

“The former Heads of the Conclave hunted and killed my mother when I was but a child! She held this power within her and when a red robe came to collect her, he instead fled with her. I was born along with a twin. The Heads then murdered my whole family leaving me orphan! I was raised here by their own blood stained hands and kept by their sides so that they could watch me! They wanted to shape me!”

“We do not believe you!” came a shout from several rows back. “Par-Salian would never have done such a thing!”

“All of Yurielle's story can be confirmed once she has spoken,” Raistlin's soft yet powerful voice cut through the clamor that was beginning to rise from the onlookers. “You will allow her to finish before you judge her!” His words and silent warning were like a hot knife cutting through ice.

The gathered mages slowly stilled and became quiet once more; cowed by the intense glare that Raistlin lay upon them all.

“I know...” Yurielle said more quietly now, “that what I am does not make sense. I know that I should not exist. Because I _shouldn't_ ,” she said harshly. “I am an abomination!” Her fists clenched at her sides. “Know this fellow mages, no one else is more aware of this fact than myself!” she said bitterly.

“In my own Test, the gods of magic came to me. All three came to me! I was only allowed to live past that moment because I must bring balance back. I must simply BE in order to do this and so I continue to do what I have always done. Be myself.

“I was asked to balance these powers, to anchor the wild magic. It was that or die because I was never meant to be born! But here I am and here I shall stay in the darkness that was asked of me for as long as I must until things have been set right...”

From beside her she could feel Raistlin's posture stiffen as she spoke.

“My father was a follower of Lunitari. My mother was something else, something feared. Both were murdered to repress the knowledge that the wild magic was among us mortals. This left me orphaned and so, I learned here, within these walls to wield the arcane side of my magic. I took my Test and within it was asked to be a balance point by the gods.”

Yurielle took a step forward now, her words coming out strong and full of passion as she spoke. “There is a cycle happening that must be broken! Krynn needs her voice to be heard to aid in this. Only I can do this so that you understand that there is other magic out there. You have nothing to fear from the ambient magic!”

She of course said nothing of what she had seen of the man beside her from within her Test. Yurielle still could not understand this part of her path. She only hoped that her choice to walk beside him and balance the weave for Krynn had already changed that bleak outcome of he had already become inside of her Test.

“So many of you have questioned why I wear the black robes. It is because I was asked to wear them for the _reason_ that I am different!” she explained earnestly. “I endure agony by Nuitari's hand because I am opposite of him. I do this gladly to be an example so you ALL understand fully what the gods ask of each and every one of us! I have taken this path so that others of you...” her eyes scanned the crowd, “did not have to lose yourselves. But so many of you are already lost!”

Many flinched under her words, for they felt in their souls that she spoke right.

“I play in the darkness because I fear it not. I light the way so that no one becomes so lost that they can no longer see their own path. I do this, because if I did not... I would die. I would be ripped apart by the weaves of power around us. Such is my fate!”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Raistlin look at her. His face was his usual hard mask, giving away nothing. But his eyes, those eyes that she alone was becoming so good at reading, looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.

“I do not want your pity, nor your thanks,” she said firmly, both to those around her as well as to the man who stood next to her. “I do this for the magic. I do this for Krynn and for the gods above us all. I do this to bring peace to those who walk in darkness,” her eyes flicked to him for a fraction of a heartbeat. “I do this to shield the innocent from the discomfort that I suffer daily. I do this for those who died before me, those that failed, and those that were never given the chance to try!

“Balance must be upheld! Wild magic must be recognized! Krynn MUST have those to weave her power or else the the forces around us will continue to grow ever more chaotic and will eventually fail!” Her voice rose now and carried through the courtyard. “The Conclave has not allowed the wild magic to flourish because they feared what it could mean. But, brothers and sisters, we all know that the magic we all share has been different lately. If we do not embrace this change, embrace this new balance, the very fabric of our mortal existence hangs in peril. Something greater and deeper than our understanding is coming!” Yurielle herself felt this in her bones, but she did not know if this timeline was taking them towards or away from something none of them could fathom. “The former Heads of the Order refused to see this. They kept me close, kept me caged.

“When I learned of what they did to me, of what they did to my family, I broke free...” her eyes closed at the memory of her anger. “I never meant to kill anyone...” for the first time her voice cracked. “But this is not my place and they refused to let me go. They refused to acknowledge the importance the role of wild magic will play in all of our lives in the very near future.”

“How can we know what you speak is the truth? All we've ever known of you Yurielle is that you are a talented mage with a knack to break curses. You are also one of the finest translators and scribes in the history of our Order. How can we know for certain what you say is true?” a different woman in black robes asked.

“I can vouch for this,” Raistlin spoke up now. “Justarius gave me the memories to prove what she says is true. Upon his deathbed he handed over this knowledge freely. Those beside me bore witness to this and I offer myself over to you so that these memories may be taken from me so that all may see what the Heads of the Conclave have kept from us all.”

It was now Yurielle whose body stiffened. Wisely she forced herself to not look at him in shock. She knew that Justarius had given his memories over to Raistlin. But for the archmage to allow himself to have these memories viewed and taken from his own mind was surprising. It would open him up to any number unforeseen possibilities that could go wrong with the transfer.

Raistlin Majere was putting himself at the mercy of his fellow mages. Yurielle knew that he was doing this for her sake, for the sake of the orders, for the sake of the magic. It was no small thing that he was willing to do for her to prove to the rest of these arcane users that she was what she said. With these memories he would prove that the Conclave had robbed her of her family and of having a life of her own. They would all see what the Heads of the Conclave had kept secret for years.

Murmurs once again rippled through the gathering. Voices were raised and shouting matches broke out all around Yurielle. But she could not discern any of it. It was all just a dull rumble to her ears as she began to feel felt dizzy and sick. Minutes passed within the din of scarce awareness while the mages around her continued their debates and arguing.

All Yurielle knew was that she suddenly felt tiny and lost. She felt alone, and terribly frightened. She felt the swell of magic around her, both the magic of the moons - as the gods themselves watched them - as well as the wild magic that hummed in the background. She felt the fulcrum of destiny swing from one side to the other as everything hung precariously in the balance. Though feeling tiny, Yurielle knew that she was in the very center. One wrong move, one wrong word, and it would all unravel.

She just had to BE.

And so, all she could do was breathe. Breathe and pray to the cosmos around her and the moons above her. She prayed to the gods of magic and placed her trust in the ambient wild magic that held them all and hoped that she had done well. For she was just one tiny mortal caught in a torrential flow of time and she had done her best.

Yurielle was barely aware of a warm hand as it lay gently on the base of her spine and hardly registered the fact that Raistlin was guiding her across the courtyard towards the entrance of the great Towers before them. It was only when they were inside the Hall of Mages did she finally snap out of her stupor.

She stood next to Raistlin, between him and Dalamar, among at least thirty other black robes gathered in one third of the hall while the same amount of both red and white robes were gathered in the other sections. Yurielle spotted Geldwyn and Sisne among the white and Triandal as well as Creven among the red. Yurielle recognized other faces among the groupings of mages. So many of the people here were those that she had been acquainted with during her life. All of them gathered within this Hall were of the most powerful, the oldest, the wisest, and most respected of each Order.

“Welcome back to us,” Raistlin's soft voice startled her once he noted that she was beginning to take in their surroundings with more than an empty stare.

Yurielle jumped slightly and looked up into his face, a blank expression on her own. Blinking she looked around again, “What's happening?” she asked and took a step closer to him, instinctively finding comfort in his presence.

“A vote is being taken to fill the seats of the Orders. Then leaders of each Order named and finally from those, a new Highmage shall be appointed,” came his quiet explanation.

“Why am _I_ here?” she asked incredulously.

“As witness,” he stated. “But also because I couldn't leave you standing in the middle of the courtyard by yourself,” his eyes finally met hers. “You were far away Yurielle... Where did you go?”

She blinked again and rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hands in that weird habit she had when she was nervous. “I don't....”

Her words were cut short as the remaining members from the lesser seats on the Conclave came forward to take their places in front of the chairs at the head of the room. Of the twenty one chairs, thirteen were empty, including the three largest, the ones in which the heads of each Order would sit. Many had perished during the fight in Palanthas or had relinquished their seats in disgust during the debates and arguments leading up to the vote, for there were several who did not agree that this new wild magic had a place in the world.

Yurielle watched as the Order of white robes, Geldwyn among their number, named the five that would fill the empty chairs to represent Solinari. Following them, the red called their five. Triandal was already standing before the row of chairs and now Creven joined him along with four more reds. Finally the order of black made their vote and Yurielle gasped when Raistlin's name was called to be among the three to fill the empty black chairs.

He gave her the smallest fraction of a knowing smile as he stepped forward but paused before he reached the row of chairs. “I decline a seat among the Council. Though you honor me with your votes,” he stated calmly.

“As the Master of the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas,” Triandal spoke up now, “the _only_ other remaining Tower of Magic in existence - be reminded - you are asked to take a seat amongst us on the Conclave Raistlin Majere.”

“You have been allowed to exist and be separate from the Order for long enough archmagus,” a white robe stated harshly. “You will take a seat among this Council, for you are not higher than any other mage upon Krynn. You will be held henceforth to the same rules and standards as each and every one of us.”

Yurielle watched as Raistlin's jaw tensed, his hand on the Staff of Magius tightened. Golden eyes narrowed a fraction as he considered this. He was in a tight spot she knew. He wanted freedom, had told her himself that he would not live by another person's rules.

“If I refuse?”

“You have been renegade long enough Raistlin Majere!” a fellow black robe spoke up now. “If you refuse a seat then you are openly rebelling against the wishes of the Conclave. You have taken a Tower that belongs to all followers of our art, to all who wield the magic. Either open the doors freely or you will sit among the Council as recompense. Your previous actions speak volumes to us and do not doubt that you walk on fragile ground.”

“I will not sit on the Council,” Raistlin stated flatly. “Therefore...” his voice dropped lower, almost to a hiss, “I shall consider opening the doors of the Tower within Palanthas to those worthy and those willing to face what lies within. The Tower is still a place of curses and darkness. I have yet to tame most of what lays within but I do know that reopening it will benefit the magehood as a whole. Now, during this time more than any other, we need unity. So,” he looked around the gathering of mages, “as a gesture of good faith. I will work with the Conclave to see that this is done, to see that the knowledge is shared.”

Those who now represented the seats on the Council discussed with each other. Only one spot was empty now that Raistlin refused to take his. “Very well Majere,” a white robe nodded. “We believe you will do this. Triandal, Creven, and Geldwyn all vouch for your willingness to begin opening the Tower within Palanthas. You have shown them good faith in housing them during these uncertain times. This action as well speaks volumes for as you stated, we need unity now more than ever.”

Raistlin inclined his head in thanks to the mages he had welcomed into his home and that now stood as members on the Conclave's Council.

“If you will not fill the seat Raistlin, who then do you put forth to take your place?” Geldwyn asked.

Raistlin turned a met the eyes of his apprentice, “I would name Dalamar Nightson.”

From next to her, Yurielle heard the Dalamar suck in a breath. The dark elf had not been expecting this.

“Dalamar Nightson is your apprentice,” stated Triandal.

“I declare that he has proven his worth and has learned much during the few years he has studied with me. You well know this, for he was your own spy within my Tower,” Raistlin stated knowingly. “Yes, this I knew and yet I allowed it because he is a talented and powerful mage. He has shown wisdom as well as resolve to the degree that he is worthy to sit among you.”

Dalamar had the good sense to look surprised at Raistlin's declaration of knowing that he was a spy. But, of course Dalamar knew that Raistlin knew. However it was the other members of the Council that did not know he was a spy for Raistlin as well.

The dark elf suddenly understood. The roles would still be the same, Raistlin was giving him this chance to be on the council, yet he still asked for the dark elf’s unwavering loyalty. He stepped forward and bowed low before Raistlin. “I am honored by your faith and approval of me Shalafi.” Dalamar turned to the gathered Council and then took in the rest of his fellow black robes with his gaze. “If all are in approval of this, I will accept that which is offered to me.”

After a few short minutes of debate, Dalamar took his place amongst the Conclave and Raistlin Majere took his place beside Yurielle.

From here the deliberations continued until it was decided that due to the strange and sudden shift within members of the Conclave, the final vote to decide the new heads of each order would take place in one month's time and the position of Highmage would be decided the following month after. Time was need for all the new members to prove their places and feel out their new roles before it would be known who among each Order was best suited to sit at the top.

Slowly the Hall began to empty of every mage except the twenty one members of the Conclave, Raistlin, and Yurielle.

“There is also the matter of a certain ancient artifact that was taken from the vaults...” a white robe reminded pointedly once the other mages had exited.

All eyes turned to Raistlin now.

He gave a small smirk, “Yes esteemed members of the Conclave, I indeed have the Bloodstone of Fistandantilus within my possession.”

“And what do you plan on doing with such a dangerous artifact?” Geldwyn asked, clearly unnerved by this new knowledge.

Raistlin held their eyes unwavering, “Fistandantilus was not destroyed centuries ago as we have been taught. He exists still, though only as a spirit that lives by taking the life force of a mage. That mage is myself.”

Murmurs filled the room.

He eyed the Council a moment before continuing, “The lich appeared to me during my Test and he offered me power in return for my very life.” He held up his hand then, letting the gold sheen of his skin catch the light. “You all know of my appearance... I maintain this shield to protect myself from getting what he wants. He was unable to destroy my soul and take the husk of my body to use for his own. However, he is still slowly draining my life from me. I wish to use the stone to sever the link.

“I came here nearly three weeks ago to ask the former Heads for their blessing in this endeavor. They refused and because of it, I _took_ the stone!” he exclaimed with a clench of that raised hand. “What was I to do? They themselves confirmed that Fistandantilus is the reason so many mages die during their Tests... for the lich has come to many with his offer. Only I survived the encounter.”

More murmurs and gasps filled the room as the Conclave members then debated amongst themselves. Finally they turned back to him. “Very well Raistlin Majere... we will not demand that you hand the Bloodstone back over to the Tower of Wayreth as you try to solve this problem,” Triandal stated. “However, the Council insists that help be offered in this task in order to see that you succeed in destroying this lich. We will discuss the details after you relinquish the memories regarding the wild mage Yurielle to us.”

Raistlin bowed low in acquiescence but Yurielle could see the hardness at the corner of his eyes. Even in this, he disliked being under their demands.

Silence now followed and Yurielle looked up into Raistlin's face questioningly as he straightened. “What now Raistlin?” she asked quietly.

He turned to her, “Now I share the memories Justarius bestowed upon me and from there, we decide what to do with you fair Yurielle.”

“But Raistlin... this could be dangerous!” she whispered worriedly.

He quickly ran a hand along the side of her face, acting as if he brushed a stray hair out of the way. “Fear not. All will be well. For you, I will do this,” his voice was soft and full of sudden warmth as he held her gaze.

Yurielle's blood hammered in her ears at his light caress. Gods how she had missed him! Missed his warm touches, missed his constant and irritating stare. She forced the sudden lump of emotion in her throat back down and nodded her understanding.

“Come forward Raistlin Majere and stand before the Conclave,” one of the members said.

With one last look at her, Raistlin turned and made his way across the Hall to stand before the row of mages at the head of the room. Because no leaders of the Orders had been selected, no one sat on the chairs just yet, for now, they were all equal.

Yurielle followed behind him, just a few paces back. Her head slightly bowed, eyes lowered, her hands clenched into fists within her sleeves. She was worried. Memory transfer was among some of the most dangerous magic. One could probe the minds of others but those spells could be blocked or manipulated. Actual memory transfer was far more dangerous and one had to be careful to not damage the brains of the ones both receiving the memories as well as the one giving.

When Justarius lay dying it was Raistlin who took the memories that the other man offered freely. Raistlin, being in complete control over the spell, was in no danger then of harm to himself. For the red robe knew that he was dying, so if any harm came to him by Raistlin taking his memories, it mattered not. Yurielle knew that whatever Raistlin had taken into his mind, he had hidden it all behind complex magical barriers. Such walls were created to prevent the memories from overwhelming the receiver, especially if the amount of information was vast.

She regretted not having the time to ask what the red robe had shown Raistlin. For she truly had no idea what lay within his mind that would prove to the rest of the magehood that she was indeed what she stated.

An apprentice appeared from a side entrance, carrying a large crystal orb in his hands. Another followed behind, carrying an ornate stand. Taking them to the center of the room before the row of mages, they set the orb on top of the stand, bowed and exited swiftly once more.

Yurielle gasped, they were going to store the memories within that orb. It was a rare thing they were going to attempt. To create an artifact to house the thoughts and memories of the former Justarius. The man was gone, but his legacy would live on.

His legacy as well as his triumphs and his failures.

She watched and listened as Raistlin placed both long hands on either side of the large orb, the Staff of Magius stood next to him unmoving as it held itself up. As she watched, Yurielle could see the golden sparks of his magic begin to dance around his form as he began to unravel the memories in his mind and project them into the orb.

Mists and memories began to swirl within...

 

 


	31. Through the Eyes of the Red Moon

Raistlin Majere began his spell casting, and the memories that the dead man had bestowed upon him started to flow into the orb at his fingertips. He let them leave his mind without resistance, for during the days following Justarius's death, Raistlin had grown weary of trying to keep above the constant pull of the images now crammed into the corner of his mind. Raistlin had had little time to probe through the thoughts himself and they continued to float to the surface at every opportunity.

There were many memories within his head now, and so very many of them held her face.

The archmage had refused to watch these memories until he was forced to. He knew that it would not be pleasant and in the knowledge and fear of what he would learn about Yurielle, Raistlin had pulled away from her in order to try to soften the sting of events that he was sure to witness. He didn't want to judge her or see her in any other light than his own until it was absolutely necessary.

Raistlin also found that he was unnerved by the prospect of seeing Yurielle through the eyes of another man. So, as he ignored the images in his head, he had busied himself this week. He had distanced himself as well as fell back into that stoic skin he once wore so easily. But now, even that did not fit quite as well as it used to.

Finally it was time to face these memories and release them from his head. It was both a relief as well as a terrible fear. Raistlin knew that this was not going to be pleasant.

Even so, the Master of the Past and Present was not prepared for the full weight of the memories and emotions as he began to lower the walls that he had built within his mind. He had to construct these walls in order to safe guard his own thoughts from those of Justarius just as he had done to contain the lich. But as the barriers came down, and as he pulled the thoughts from his brain, Raistlin Majere was forced to watch with the rest of the gathered mages, as images flooded the smooth crystal of the orbs surface.

Within his mind, he watched through the eyes of the dead man as they destroyed the life of a small child and raised her up inside a cage of their own making. Raistlin watched his star grow from a child lost in the cold world around her to the passionate woman he had come to know.

Raistlin watched and knew that there was nothing he could do but embrace her pain as his own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A quick rap of knuckles sounded against the hard wood of the chambers doors. “Enter,” Justarius's voice rang out as he raised his head from his spellbook.

A much younger Par-Salian stood within the doorway, beside him stood Ladonna. Dark and light, Justarius thought as he regarded them. The two mages were indeed polar opposites. He had knowledge that these two mages were once lovers. But, their differences had grown too vast and too numerous, souring their love though not their companionship and respect for one another.

“Friends,” Justarius stood now and bade the other Heads of the Conclave to enter his chambers. The two mages did after they shut the door and cast warding spells around them. Justarius watched this without comment. If wards were being cast, then the news these two were bringing must be important indeed.

“We have tracked down the wild witch,” Par-Salian stated. “She is a wily one and more powerful than any recorded.”

“How so?”

“Seems this one can nullify our magic,” Ladonna said, her strong feminine voice rang through the memory just as strongly as it did in life for all of those who watched this unfolding. “She evaded the mage hunters once again. We must send a tracker Justarius, for the arcane-finders are useless against sniffing out the ambient magic.”

“You have many talented in such use of the magic within your Order,” Par-Salian now said. “We have come to you for recommendations.”

“If this sorceress is as powerful as you say my friends, then what do we do when we find her? If she can nullify the mage hunters then she will continue to. I say again friends - we should try a new tactic. Bring her here willingly, ensure her safety. We should learn and come to understand this mystery the woman represents to us.”

“And do what with her?” Ladonna snapped. “For years the Heads of the Conclave have been charged with keeping the Orders safe from anything that may endanger the craft. This woman represents that which is unknown, that which was long conquered. The old magic has no place in this world. The gods themselves have seen to that. We must continue to try and snuff her out, as well as all others like her in order to keep the magic from becoming tainted.”

Justarius sighed; he had had this very argument with his fellow mages over and over as of late. Occurrences such as this woman had been becoming more and more prevalent. She was the third since he had joined the Conclave and the most powerful of them yet. What was happening to the magic? He was unable to make his fellow leaders see that this was no mere fluke.

He would try one more time.

“We have been a part of the Council for how long...? For how long have we each been Heads of our respective Orders?” Justarius looked at his fellows each in turn before continuing. “Beings such as her have been growing more prevalent. This has gone beyond the untrained using magic to rid barns of mice and create balls of light in their palms to entertain the stupid. If these wielders of the ambient magic are so strong as to nullify the arcane magic given from the gods, then we MUST find out why!”

“For what reason would that serve us brother?” Par-Salian asked now. “Ladonna is correct. There is no place for ambient magic in this world. It would threaten the balance we've work so hard to uphold. She, and others like her, must be eradicated. We are charged with protecting balance and so balance will be maintained. At all costs.”

“At all costs,” the black robe echoed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The image of memory shifted then, drifted to a new scene farther down the flow of time. Raistlin Majere watched and fell deeper into the memories that had shaped Yurielle's life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you for coming Jyath,” Justarius addressed the man in red robes that stood before him. The man was tall, being over six feet in height, well built with striking features. He had a strong face with bright blue eyes that stood out in sharp contrast to the mop of curly dark hair that tumbled town to his shoulders.

Jyath smiled a disarming, charismatic smile that caused deep dimples in his cheeks to appear. “To what do I owe this honor Justarius?” the man's melodic voice asked smoothly.

Even through the memories, Raistlin could feel that this was a mage that was good at what he did. The man was talented and knew it. He held an air of sureness in both himself and in his power. The more Raistlin examined the mage in front of him, or rather, in front of Justarius, the more he recognized Yurielle within the features.

The witty flash of intelligent eyes, the dimples, the unassuming charm, this was Yurielle's father. In this Raistlin had no doubt as he watched the scene unfold.

“Due to your ranger history, you are one of the best trackers we have in service to the Order Jyath. In this you are well aware,” Justarius was saying.

That cocky grin flashed again. “You flatter me Master. But yes, my magic is best applied to my other talents.”

Yurielle's father also had a feral, wild look about him. He looked like a cat ready for a hunt or one that stalked the forest and watched the world unfold from the shadows. This man held an air of nature about him and vaguely reminded Raistlin of the half-elf Tanis.

It would seem that this man was a ranger as well as a wizard. His skills were suited to tracking and living in the wilderness just as well as being confined to the stone walls of a tower and Raistlin had no doubt the man was formidable in both settings.

“I have a job for you Jyath, if you so choose to accept it...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another loud knock resonated through the new memory that appeared to the assembled viewers.

“Enter!” Justarius bade wearily. It was dark outside and the light of his red moon flooded through the open window next to his bed as he pulled himself form its surface. Quickly he dressed in a sleeping robe as his visitors entered.

Ladonna entered; her face was alight with triumph. Behind her entered Par-Salian, looking less pleased but held the air of someone who was glad to be done with a task that had left a bad taste in his mouth.

Justarius gave a small sigh, for he had been both expecting their visit as well as dreading it, for well over six years now. “So...” he began, “I take it that your elite hunters have finally succeeded?”

Ladonna beamed, “Yes! The witch and the renegade have been dealt with. The wild woman has been finally silenced.”

“And Jyath?” Justarius dared ask.

Par-Salian sighed, “He too is dead. I am sorry Justarius, but the rumors were true. He was indeed protecting her. If by some influence or by his own free will, we were not able to find out. But he fought beside her, killing several before finally falling.”

Justarius closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had never wanted this, not any of this. So much blood lost... “Why would he turn?”

“He always had a soft spot for a pretty face,” Ladonna tittered as she laughed into the back of her hand. “The woman was said to be a stunning creature. I'm sure she only had to bat her eyelashes and he was under her wild spell.”

“Speak not so dishonorably of our fallen brother Ladonna,” Par-Salian admonished the woman harshly. “What's done is done and at great cost!”

“Indeed,” some of the fire in Ladonna's eyes faded. “I lost seven good black robes. Each were among some of my most talented assassins. But as you say, what's done is done.”

“Seven...!?” Justarius hissed. It was the largest force to be lost in any endeavor that he could ever recall happening. “So much blood split and for why? To silence a woman we refused to even come to understand?”

“Oh not that song and dance again!” the woman snapped. “We have done what others before us have sought to maintain. The balance remains untouched. The magehood is safe.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Years seemed to flash past in a blur and a haze. When it finally stopped, the mages who stood around the orb were greeted with the sight of a cold winter's day.

Raistlin held his breath.

Gods no!

He wasn't afraid to see the memory for himself. What he feared most was that Yurielle was also watching... alone and by herself. There would be no comfort for her again as her world fell apart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What a skinny couple of miserable rats...” Ladonna commented as the three Heads stood on top of a stone building. They were overlooking a frozen river while two small shapes slid and skated across the icy surface below.

Giggles and joyous exclamations floated up to the trio as two small girls played with one another, slowly crossing the expanse to the other side. Completely unaware that they were being watched, and completely unaware of what was about to happen.

Raistlin watched the scene unfold, horrified to his core. He knew.

It was not hard to spot Yurielle. The golden ends of her auburn hair flashed at him as she skated on the slick surface with her twin. The other girl was identical to the first, exactly the same in look and sound. The only difference was the second girl's hair darkened to black at the tips.

Both girls were small and underfed. They both were nothing but skinny arms and legs visible and poking out from thin layers of rags. Neither was properly dressed for living outside in the dead of winter, neither had sensible shoes on nor hats or mittens to keep them warm. Their dirty pale faces were thin and their hair tangled and unkempt. But their eyes were bright with excitement at the prospect of finding food as they made their way across the frozen river, playing as they went.

Despite their obvious neglect, the twins laughed with hearts that lived in the moment. Each united in the love and bonds that only twins shared and could understand. They had each other, and for them, that was enough to sustain their little bodies until they found their next meal.

“We do not need to do this,” Justarius said again, for what felt like the hundredth time. “They are just children...”

“Children who will grow up to be like their mother,” Par-Salian stated once more. “We have been watching them. They show signs of being gifted with magic. They will be strong...”

“But Jyath was their father, this may be the arcane magic blossoming in their blood, not the wild,” Justarius interrupted, his eyes on the girls who were now throwing snowballs at one another, shrieking with mirth. 'They looked like suffering wretches yet see how they play! They do not deserve this fate...' Justarius thought as their musical laughter floated through the air.

“Regardless, if they have the arcane magic within them it will be years before we know for sure. We cannot allow them to grow and get out of hand. We risk tainting the balance my friend. You, out of all of us, understand that we must always keep the balance,” Ladonna pointed out.

“Your spell is in place then?” Par-Salian asked.

“Yes, the ice in the center is weak,” the woman pointed with a stiff nod of her proud chin. “We will know in a moment.”

Justarius watched, silent and detached.

Raistlin however, wanted to scream within his own mind and bring an end to this memory. He did not want to view it any longer because he knew that within it, he would witness the death of an innocent little girl. His anger and his rage were intense as the scene continued to unfold as he watched helplessly.

If there was one thing in this world that Raistlin Majere hated most, it was the senseless pain inflicted on the innocent by those that held power. The archmage had been on the receiving end of such pointless acts during his young life. The hurt and ridicule he had endured had shape him, for better or worse, and it had fueled his ambition to become powerful enough to make a difference. But now, none of that mattered, for Raistlin was about to watch the death of one such innocent.

The archmage's breath froze as the air was pierced by a loud crack of ice. He thought of Yurielle's drawing that he had seen so many months ago within her room at the Sage's Rest. The perfect image had been a detailed depiction of the horror on her sister's face in this moment and the recollection of it twisted his gut.

He watched through the eyes of Justarius as the first girl turned and flung her beloved twin away with a scream that rent the air. Yurielle flew back from the force of her sister's cry and sudden release of wild magic and landed hard on the ice several feet away.

Raistlin was helpless as the ice around the doomed twin cracked and widened, swallowing the girl, her auburn hair quickly disappearing beneath the raging current of frigid water.

He watched as the realization dawned on Yurielle's little face. Her large indigo eyes were locked on the hole where her sister fell, the hole that nothing in her life would ever fill again.

It was her own kind of void that existed within herself. An emptiness she still carried but Raistlin suddenly understood that Yurielle had never allowed it to consume her. Not as he had allowed his own emptiness to gnaw away at him.

Raistlin watched Yurielle as the knowing that she was now completely alone washed over her. He would never be able to remove that look in her eyes from his own memory and he would never forget the anguished scream that followed, one that split the rest of the ice in front of the little girl, opening the river wide to her.

The sound of the shattering ice was deafening, but all Raistlin could hear was the soul wrenching agony of little Yurielle, this child who would grow into the woman that he had let inside of his Tower, inside of his life, and inside of his very being. Her pain echoed through his own emptiness and the ache of it nearly broke him.

All gathered in assembly watched as the ice along the river was destroyed by the cries of the forlorn twin who then began to run along the splintering cracks of the water's edge. The little girl became drenched by the frigid water, cut and torn by the rocks and shards of ice as she searched in vain for her other half that was long beyond her reach.

And the Heads of the Conclave had done nothing but stand there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The girl will live,” Par-Salian's voice now floated from the orb to be heard by those gathered. “The old woman is talented in medicine and herbs. She has managed to bring the child back from the brink of death.”

“What now then?” Justarius asked bitterly. “Do we go finish what we started? We've already sunk so low as to murder children. What is one more body on the pile of the dead?” he said harshly, mockingly.

“We could not have foreseen how the magic would react in ones so young,” Ladonna stated. “That girl should not have been able to fling her twin so far out of reach! And the other... she should not have been able to splint the river like that!”

“Indeed,” Par-Salian agreed darkly. “That girl will be powerful. And it that was not the arcane magic she used. We all felt it. She drew upon the ambient weave...”

“We must keep the balance of magic brothers,” Ladonna cut in. “The girl must die. Do it now before she grows stronger.”

“She is of no threat Ladonna,” Par-Salian stated then, it almost sounded as if he regretted what they had done. “She is nearly catatonic from loss. The woman is all but force feeding her to keep her alive as her little body heals from the cold. I no longer sense any magic around the child. It is as if it has abandoned her.”

“Or gone dormant! We cannot take that chance. Kill her NOW!” the black robed woman ordered vehemently.

“Enough Ladonna!” Justarius snapped, finally giving into his anger. “I will no longer shed any more blood! We have destroyed this child’s life. If you insist on ending it, you will do so without my consent. I am sick of this! I will no longer murder children...” his thoughts then went to his own daughter. One who was about the same age as the child that they had killed. His nights as of late had been filled with images of his own child being pulled under by the waves; those screams that echoed in his head were his own.

They should never have done this and Raistlin could feel the deep despair and regret that filled Justarius.

“Then what do you suggest friend?” the white robe asked, his own eyes were weary. The weight of what they had done was against what his Order stood for. All could see that he too was questioning what they were trying to do anymore. But they could also see the acceptance in the Highmage's eyes.

He would do anything to keep the magic pure.

Justarius was silent a moment as he sorted through his thoughts. Finally he replied. “I say we take the girl. Raise her here amongst other mages and shape her craft. Make her into an instrument of our own design.” Justarius was pacing around the room as he spoke, holding each of his fellow mages stares with his own. “We will learn within a few years what magic she indeed may possess still, if any.”

Ladonna scowled at the red robe.

Par-Salian looked thoughtful. “Perhaps... perhaps you do offer a solution friend.”

“You are not serious!” the woman exclaimed, now turning her ire to Par-Salian. “This is not what we agreed upon! The magic is the most important factor here! We must uphold and protect it!”

“I have been thinking long and hard about what Justarius has been pointing out Ladonna,” Par-Salian met her glare without flinching. “The wild magic has been appearing more and more these past years. How many have we had to go and hunt down? It's true that none have been as powerful as these children were. But indeed, there is something happening. There must be a reason for this. Perhaps we need to discover what is behind this,” he ran a hand along the length of his beard as he spoke.

“Perhaps the only way to solve this riddle is to keep one of these Sorcerers near us so that we may learn how they use and wield the ambient magic while we, who are picked and trained by the gods, cannot. Perhaps having one on our side will aid the magehood in whatever future may come about from the rise of these wild magic users. For if this continues, we will no longer be able to hide what we are doing. With one on our side, we can use her to help us cleanse the magic.”

It was Ladonna now who looked thoughtful, “Our own weapon....”

The three mages locked eyes with one another and each nodded in turn.

“Then it is decided.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The onlookers watched now as more scenes came into focus from within the orb.

They all saw the little girl they knew as Yurielle as she was brought to the Tower of High Sorcery in Wayreth. It had been several weeks since she had lost her twin and the mark of the event was still etched on her thin features.

The gathered mages watched the Heads of the Orders dress her in white and listened to them speak to her with hollow sympathy and words of comfort that ultimately meant nothing.

As one the assembled mages watched Yurielle grow.

But as Raistlin watched, only he noted how she went through the motions of life like a doll on strings. Only he noted how quiet she was, how closed off she had become in order to protect herself from any more pain, for he had done these same things himself during his own hard life.

Withdraw, close yourself off and put up walls. Protect yourself from the cruelty of others. This had been what he had done and he saw some of this in her as his own emptiness echoed her loneliness.

Years passed and the memories flooded out of Raistlin with such speed that he could barely keep track of them all. Faster and faster they came and they fell through his mind like sands in an hourglass, each grain a tiny image of her face, and each pierced his heart deeper and deeper.

Raistlin watched as little Yurielle slowly came to smile and laugh within these memories. But he saw that it took years for the spark of pain in her eyes to begin to fade. He also came to realize that the walls she had put up around her heart were not as thick or as impenetrable as his.

Because of this, Raistlin saw how her walls were slowly replaced by trust and loyalty to these people that had done so much evil to her. However, through all of her trials, Yurielle was always true to herself. The archmage witnessed through another's eyes that even as a child Yurielle was spirited and witty; her quirky charm blossomed and grew as did her eagerness for knowledge. He was mesmerized and couldn't help but feel a slight pang of regret that he had never known her growing up.

How different his life may have been if he had learned beside her....

More and more memories continued to be shown through the eyes of Justarius and Raistlin's legs began to tremble from the onslaught of emotions and images.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justarius was walking through the gardens on the Towers grounds when he suddenly heard the sound of singing. Coming off the path the red robed man found the source. It was Yurielle, now healthy looking and well taken care of, sitting among the dirt and rose bushes as she sang alone. Raistlin noted how she sat huddled in on herself within the bushes, her arms wrapped around her legs and chin on her knees in that fetal position she took to shield herself when distressed. Her white robes were stained with dirt and smears of ink from her schooling and Justarius watched silently as Yurielle hummed a pretty melody even as tears fell from the girl's eyes.

Raistlin and the other mages saw the flowers around Yurielle open and close slowly as she sang to them. They all saw how the leaves and vines tried to comfort the forlorn girl, the greenery twitching slightly in response to her sadness.

She was working the wild magic with her voice. Even so young, it seemed that Yurielle used her magic unbeknownst to her.

“Child...” Justarius's voice now filled the memory, halting the soft melody of her lovely voice.

Yurielle looked up and met his eyes, tears streaked down her face.

Justarius didn't ask her what was wrong. He didn't even seem to care as his voice turned cold and detached. “You misuse the magic. You must stop this instant!”

The little girl sniffed and wiped her hand across her face, streaking dirt and tears along her skin. “I'm not using magic!” she insisted. “I was only singing!”

The man came to her side and with a strong hand on her arm, hauled her to her feet. “You are not to sing ever again! Do you hear me?!” he scolded harshly.

“But why?” little Yurielle asked in a quiet voice. “My mother said singing is my gift and the world needs my gift and...” she hiccupped, “and it makes me feel better! The roses like it too!”

“Your mother was wrong Yurielle,” Justarius stated. “Using the magic that the gods gave you in such a way is a mockery of _their_ gift. It belongs to them, not to you. So stop this instant or you will face the consequences again.”

“Yes Master,” she lowered her eyes away and her bottom lip quivered with more tears.

The garden faded away as more scenes followed in quick succession.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The three Heads of the Order where now testing Yurielle for arcane magic.

On the desk before her sat a sheet of lambskin, an inkwell of blood, and a crow's feather quill. They all watched through Justarius's eyes as the little girl dutifully wrote the fateful words, _'I, Magus'_ upon the skin.

Raistlin felt pride, both his own and that of the red robe, as the words began to glow faintly. It wasn't the inferno that had devoured the scroll Raistlin had written upon as a child, but it was proof that she had the arcane gift. Raistlin then saw through Justarius's eyes the shocked faces on the other mages that were present around the girl. The shock and the horror. For now they knew now without a doubt that Yurielle had both magics.

The little girl beamed up at them, her face was adorable in only the way a small child could be. Her smile was radiant, despite the few gaps of missing baby teeth. Her round puffy cheeks looked more freckled than they were now and those dimples seemed to nearly split her face with her excitement.

“Look Master's!” she exclaimed happily. “The gods _do_ love me! Does this mean that you let me keep learning?” Yurielle's face was framed with carefully brushed waves of hair as her large dark eyes shimmered straight at Justarius.

“Yes Yurielle,” Justarius replied and her deep eyes looked up at him and went right through the red robe into the man who now held his memories, piercing Raistlin straight into the core of his soul.

Raistlin stared back into the depths of those little indigo orbs. At that age, her eyes were far too large on her small face. But they were bright, reflecting the hunger of an eager mind, and they were so very hers.

~~~~~~~

The next memory was of an older Yurielle.

She was humming very quietly to herself as she worked at her books. The pages turned on their own as the adolescent girl slowly swung her legs from the stood that she sat upon. Everyone watching recoiled when a switch fell down hard across her shoulders.

“No singing!” the shrill voice of Ladonna exclaimed. “You are not allowed to sing child! You know that! You must focus your magic through the words, not idly misuse your gift!”

The switch fell again. Justarius did nothing but watch.

Similar scenes like this followed, proving to the mages who viewed these memories of what former Heads of the Conclave had done to the girl. They all saw how they began to contort her views to believe that this other magic she used was only in her mind. They all witnessed how the Heads locked away her fragile abilities and conditioned her to think that things reacted when she sang was just her own way with the arcane magic. They made Yurielle believe that her song was something only allowed when they said it could be used.

Over time, as she grew, the odd occurrences faded as she began to believe their lies and focused on developing her skills through the wizardly arts by calling forth and asking the gods to grant her their magic same as those around her.

The Heads would only let her sing on rare occasion and they observed the effects of her magic as she did. They learned from her and through her studied the wild magic. The magehood watched this unfold and as Justarius filled books upon books with notes as the former Heads molded her.

Quick snippets of further memories followed of meetings that were held as they discussed Yurielle. Arguments and strains upon the threes camaraderie were common place during these. Cracks slowly opened between the Heads of the Orders as the girl grew into a woman.

Then the time came for her Test.

Justarius argued that she was not ready. But the others had insisted. Her magic was shaped as far as they could take it. They had suppressed her conscious use of the ambient magic as much as they were able. She had learned from several other masters in the ways of the arcane magic and was growing capable in the art.

Yurielle was finally ready to be shaped into their weapon.

It was now time for her to be one of them. Or she would die in the attempt. If that happened, no one would know the difference.

~~~~

Raistlin watched as Yurielle followed the false image of Par-Salian along the corridors to take her Test. The red robe, along with the real Par-Salian and Ladonna, began their preparations to conduct the woman’s proceedings within a second chamber.

“She is still too young,” Justarius stated again.

“Yurielle is not the youngest mage to take the Test Justarius,” Par-Salian said.

“Yes and remember how well it turned out for Raistlin Majere?” Justarius shot back.

Raistlin started at his own name, spoken within this memory.

“A shattered and cursed man alone in the world...” Justarius was saying. “Closed off and now on his own path with his own ambitions in mind. Tell me again Par-Salian, tell me again why it was necessary to forge _that_ one?”

“Let us pray this does not go as poorly as that Test did,” Ladonna grumbled. “Though, he is proving himself to be quite the powerful force to be reckoned with. He took the black robes and seemingly became aware, if at least for a time, regarding that foe within him. Though, I do not quite know what has transpired in the time since the war once he entered the Tower in Palanthas.”

“What do you mean Ladonna?” Justarius asked.

The woman shrugged as they casually discussed Raistlin's life as if they were discussing the weather.

“All of a sudden Majere seems as if he is again unaware of the true intentions and reach of the archlich and the bargain that he made with him,” Par-Salian answered. “We have been watching him and are beginning to suspect that the lich inside of him is starting to influence the young man and hide it from him.”

“We should have dealt with the young man years ago,” Justarius rumbled in irritation.

“He saved us,” Ladonna stated. “We owe him a great debt in what he did to defend this Tower when Takhisis stole our magic on the Night of the Eye. If it were not for Raistlin Majere, we would all have died by the hands of Lord Soth.”

Par-Salian nodded, “This may be Ladonna. But even you cannot deny that if Fistandantilus indeed has regained control over the young man, then woe to us.”

Raistlin listened, in both shock and horror at what this could entail. They had said he was once aware of Fistandantilus at the end of the war. But he could not bring that knowledge forth into his own mind. However he could not dwell on this as the memory continued to be shown.

“You are just happy that you are able to say that it was a black robe that turned the tide of the war,” Justarius shot back hotly. He was resentful that Raistlin Majere had switched allegiance and went from wearing the red robes of Lunitari to the black robes of Nuitari without consulting with anyone.

“We have been grooming Yurielle since she was a girl,” Par-Salian said. “Raistlin Majere was forged in the fire of his own bitter life of mistrust and solitude. We chose him in hopes that what good is left in him will end the darkness. He succeeded, in his own way I suppose. Though, if what rumblings we hear are true, we should be wary of him, for he grows ever more dangerous by the day. Yurielle however was forged by the loss -”

“Loss of her family by our own hands and the conditioning we put her through to suppress her real abilities. We lied to her. If she ever finds out...” Justarius added darkly, cutting off the other man.

“All for the magic,” Ladonna sneered as they watched Yurielle enter the space where she would walk into their weave and begin her Test. Once the fake simulacrum of Par-Salian faded, Ladonna turned and grinned at the other two. “Come brothers, we perhaps have lost one weapon but let us not lose this one. It is time for us to begin.”

The onlookers watched the red robes memories as the three began their spells that would give life to the Yurielle's Test. They all watched as everything suddenly went dark. They then watched as the three Heads began to panic, unable to understand why they had no control over her Test. They could feel that something was happening within the chamber and they each felt their gods close at hand.

Then, after what seemed like hours later, they all watched as Yurielle exited the chamber.

Her glimmering white robes were now black as night. Her eyes were vacant, as if something profound and beyond her understanding had occurred.

Raistlin keenly felt Justarius's fear.

~~

“Well my friend, was this part of your plan when you wanted to keep the girl alive?” Ladonna mocked as they all watched the woman work at her desk at the far end of the library. She sat amongst her piles of ancient tomes and books as she translated. Her hair was braided and she wore a blank expression as she worked, the only sound she gave off was the slow, even scratch of her quill. Yurielle was dressed in black and Raistlin watched as every other person in the room gave her a wide berth as they passed her working space.

No one knew what to think of her now. She had become even more of an outsider. Shunned and distrusted, the other mages were unnerved by her sudden and extreme shift in alliance. When a white robed apprentice seemingly chose the black robes after their Test, it meant that there was something to note and fear within that individual. Such occurrences usually were the stuff of bad omens.

“You felt it as well as we did Ladonna,” Par-Salian said before Justarius could say anything. “The gods themselves conducted the woman's Test. _They_ have decided her fate now. All that is left for us is to let her be and see what she will become....”

~

The last memory that played before the magehood was of a few weeks ago. It was the final moments of the Heads interrogation of Yurielle.

Raistlin watched as the three hovered menacingly around her as they questioned her. He heard their inner dialogue and wanted to scream in frustration and anger at their words of what they would do with her. The details of how they would punish her and regain their control over her made his blood boil.

They all listened to Yurielle's replies to their questions and saw the unmasked fear in her eyes.

Her hurt, her anger. Her complete and total loneliness that she felt amongst these people she had trusted.

Then, the memory played to reveal how Yurielle had used her gift to hear their words, how she overpowered their own spell and flung it back.

How she learned the truth.

And how she brought them to their knees...

 

***

 

Yurielle did not watch the images within the crystal ball. She didn't have to because she had lived those events. She did not need to be reminded of these things and she cared not to see the decisions that were behind the shaping of her life.

Instead she watched the face of Raistlin Majere as he himself was a front row witness to her existence. She watched as he eventually had to close his eyes, she watched as he sank to his knees under the weight of the memories, and she watched as blood began to trickle from his nose as the last memory left the vault of his mind.

With her heart in her throat, Yurielle watched the archmage slump over the crystal ball as the spell finally ended.

Slowly Raistlin roused himself. His eyes blinked hazily as he wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve. His mind whirled in a thousand different directions in the aftermath of the spell.

Yurielle waited for his hourglass eyes to search the room for her.

Golden orbs fell on her and they locked gazes with one another.

Raistlin truly saw Yurielle then, the woman that so willingly embraced the darkness, the tiny pinpoint of light that he could only stare in awe at. He had no words to describe what was going through him in that moment, for the range of emotions was vast and deep.

Yurielle met his eyes for a heartbeat but quickly looked away from the intense look that he gave her. She could not bear to hold his gaze, could not bear the look within those eyes as he judged her.

In that second that their eyes had locked, Yurielle had seen horror and pity there in his eyes. All mixed with an unfiltered anger.

In shame, she looked away. Raistlin had seen everything. He had seen her pitiful life and the lie that she was. He had seen how she was nothing but a puppet, had seen how she had been manipulated.

Yurielle instead looked up at the row of other eyes that now held her in their gazes. The twenty one members of the new Conclave of Wizards were all staring at her. She held their eyes in hers for several moments.

She knew then without a doubt that she did not belong here, their faces said as much as they stared at her.

Rage and hurt seethed within Yurielle then.

“So now you see...” her voice was surprisingly steady and strong, “that I am not like you. I am a Sorceress of Krynn. I am wielder of the ambient magic that created the cosmos. You see now and you understand why I will no longer wear your colors!”

Closing her eyes Yurielle concentrated and the wild magic answered her call. Small gasps and murmurs could be heard before she opened her eyes once more.

She was no longer robed in black. Instead her robes were midnight blue, the iridescent runes on the hems of her robe gleamed brightly, like stars held in a twilight sky.

Yurielle knew then that she was no longer apart of this world of arcane magic and laws. With a sad heart, she also felt the gods pull away from her in that moment - not fully - for they would never forsake her. This she also knew in her heart and was grateful for this small comfort.

But she would no longer walked in their light. She knew that this was their will; all within the room felt the will of the gods as a breeze blew through the Hall, rustling the edges of cloaks and hair.

The gods of the three moons blessed this.

From this day forth, she would find her own path. One that was separate from what was understood by all other magic-users upon Krynn.

She would walk it by herself if she had to. For the gods had asked this of her. So, resigned and resolute in her fate, Yurielle turned her back on the Conclave, on Raistlin, and walked from the Hall of Mages.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! I also posted a new chapter in the "Thoughts and Discussions on the Star and the Hourglass" that further explores Yurielle's magic. Here is a link directly to it: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17952665/chapters/44936275


	32. Picking Up The Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter compared to others but I hope the bonus surprise at the end makes up for it :) Also an announcement in the notes after.

“Oh how I wish

For soothing rain

All I wish is to dream again

My loving heart

Lost in the dark

For hope I'd give my everything”

~Nemo by Nightwish

 

Yurielle did not exit the Tower of High Sorcery after she left the Hall of Mages. Instead, she wandered the empty corridors alone. Her heart was heavy and her eyes were damp with tears that she refused to let fall. She knew that she could not change what had happened to her, and strangely, Yurielle felt that she was no longer angry. With the absence of that anger, there was now only a hollow feeling that ached within her.

The whole of the magehood had seen firsthand why she was different. They had all witnessed what had been done to her as well as what she could do with her strange magic. Again, she wanted no pity from anyone, only acceptance. Despite her wants, her heart feared that even though they had seen, the wizards still would not understand her. Nor accept her.

Yurielle barely understood who she was and what she was supposed to do with her magic. She was part of the arcane weave, yet also a part of something that was different. How could other mages come to understand her when she felt splintered within her own self, divided into these two halves that didn't quite fit together. Now that Yurielle knew that these parts of her magic were not in her imagination, that they were indeed separate things as she'd always felt, she had no idea how to go about beginning to use them.

She felt empty now that all of her secrets were laid bare. Her life, her weakness, her shame - it had all been revealed to the magic-users of Krynn.

But, above all that, _he_ had seen.

Raistlin Majere had been firsthand witness to the decisions that had shaped her life. Not only had he seen through the eyes of Justarius, Yurielle knew enough about the spell to understand that the archmage would have felt the emotions of the deceased mage as if they were his own.

Suddenly, the thought of Raistlin viewing her through the eyes of another man - a man that had been a huge part of her upbringing - bothered Yurielle. She didn't care what others would think, but she found that she did care when it came to Raistlin.

Would this change how he viewed the situation? Would it taint his perceptions of her?

These were questions she could not answer and right now, she didn't have the strength of heart to even begin to come to terms with them.

Yurielle felt utterly, terribly alone.

Her footsteps were soft and muffled as she made her way through the labyrinth of halls and rooms. She didn't have any particular destination in mind, only that she needed to be away from everyone else, and so, Yurielle let the wild magic guide her.

Lost in her somber thoughts, Yurielle suddenly paused when she sensed a presence nearby. Looking up, she was not surprised to find that she had made her way into the room in which so many changes had started. Her breath froze in her throat, for she found herself in the place that her interrogation had happen just a few weeks ago.

But it was in this room that she had finally begun to question her life. It was here that her path began, and it's where the Master of the Past and the Present now stood, waiting for her.

“Raistlin...” Yurielle said softly, finally stirring from her thoughts long enough to notice him in the darkest corner of the room.

The archmage stood there motionless, shrouded in shadow. His golden eyes glittered at her from within the depths of his black hood. For a moment, it seemed as if they were back in time, to that day they had first met inside of the crypts.

“You're staring Majere...” Yurielle tried to lightheartedly scold but instead it came out flat. There was no playfulness in her voice like usual, just empty defeat and sadness.

Raistlin made no move or reply. He merely stood there, the living embodiment of darkness as he dissected her with those cursed eyes.

Yurielle found that she feared what his silence meant. For like that first moment when they had met, he stood unmoving and quiet as he studied her. Long moments passed between the two and Yurielle felt herself begin to tremble as the events of the day began to catch up to her.

Unable to look at him any longer, she turned her face away, only to stare at the blackened wall that her voice had melted. The damage still looked fresh though there was evidence that the mages had tried to repair it.

“Don't fade on me Yurielle,” Raistlin finally said. His soft voice seemed to shatter the stillness around them.

His words made Yurielle's breath catch in her throat. The sound of her cut off sob echoed in the room. If he only knew how she sometimes wished for such a thing. “I,” she choked on the words, “I want to...”

Suddenly he was there beside her and Yurielle found herself enveloped within the warmth of his arms. “NO,” he said gently but firmly. His lips brushed against her hair as he gathered her to him.

Yurielle finally allowed the tears to flow. Hiding her face with her hands and Raistlin held her against his chest as she sobbed. She buried herself against him, letting his presence sooth her and fill all of her senses with him in order to block out everything else.

The warmth he gave off, the smell of his spell components and magic, the sound of his heart against her ear, as well as the very slight rasp of his breathing, everything – all of it – was Raistlin. For a moment Yurielle's tears fell harder, because she knew how much she loved him. Loved him and didn't know if he would ever return her feelings or, more to the fact, if he was even capable of loving her in return. So, cocooned in that thick black velvet of his robe, Yurielle let herself cry.

The woman still felt like that little star surrounded by darkness as she had always considered herself to be. However now, held in his arms, the symbolism was not lost on Yurielle. 'How fitting,' she thought as her tears finally began to slow. But no matter the mental image that this moment brought forth in her mind, Yurielle still felt eased by Raistlin's nearness and comforted by the very fact that he had come to find her.

Sensing that she was beginning to calm, Raistlin drew her away from him and peered down into her tear filled eyes. Hesitantly, he reached a hand up to gently run it once more down the side of her face in the way that Yurielle was quickly recognizing as his method of showing affection.

“I am so very sorry...” he whispered quietly. “But, if it means anything, know that I am proud of you Yurielle.”

A fresh wave of tears stung her eyes and she tried to look away but Raistlin's hand on her chin would not allowed her face to leave his. “Why are you wandering around the Tower by yourself?” he asked as he brushed away the damp trail of tears with his thumb. “I've been searching everywhere for you.”

Yurielle nuzzled into his golden hand. The feeling of how much she had missed him over these past few days surged back up inside of her and she couldn't stop a sob from escaping her throat. “I didn't know where else to go Raistlin... so I just started to walk.”

His cursed eyes were full of understanding. “And you came here?” Raistlin asked as he took in the damage of the room around them. He saw how the stone walls were charred and slightly melted from the fury of her voice she had unleashed when she learned of what the Conclave had done to her.

“You did this,” he stated as he began to realize the power of what she had done when she learned that the Heads had murdered her parents and her twin.

Yurielle closed her eyes then to block the memory of that day. “Yes...”

Raistlin's eyes scanned the room. He recognized it from Justarius's memory. His face grew dark as he recalled what the three Heads had discussed with their telepathy spell.

“This is where they questioned me,” Yurielle's voice drew his eyes back to her face. “This is where I learned the truth.”

“And this is where you freed yourself,” he added. Reverence and pride heavy in his voice.

Opening her eyes Yurielle discovered his again on her face, his golden orbs searching her, watching her. “Yes. And this is where I killed,” she said in a hollow voice.

“Show me...” he said softly, his hand still cradling the side of her face tenderly. “Show me the path that you took.”

“Haven't you witnessed enough Raistlin? How much more of my pain do you need to see?” Yurielle's voice cracked as she fought to hold back another wave of tears.

“Not your pain Yurielle. I have seen more of that than I can stomach,” Raistlin said harshly, his own gut twisted at the memories that he had observed. “I want to see your power,” he stated as he finally dropped his hand away from her face. “I want to see and stand in awe of what you can do.”

She blinked at him, not understanding his request.

“ _You_ ,” he whispered in that soft voice she had grown so fond of. “You hold a power that awes me. For you are far more powerful than I, and I must admit, you are more worthy of the magic than me.”

“Don't be absurd Raistlin!” Yurielle's eyes went wide in shock at his confession.

Taking her hand in his, he ran his thumb over her knuckles. “I _am_ unworthy,” he murmured. “I've raged and blamed everything around me for my follies and the things that I could not change. I used my magic to lash out and get my revenge in order to make my life my own. You... you lost everything and yet you never lost yourself.”

“Didn't I?” she scoffed halfheartedly, her eyes watching his hand play with her own held between them. “I'm not so sure Raistlin. I'm feeling pretty lost right now.” She shook her head sadly. “I was never in charge of my life. You saw...” her voice cut off as her throat tightened, threatening to release another sob.

“Yes. Yes I saw!” he said bitterly. “I saw how they used you. How they made you think your powers were not what they truly were. I saw how they lied to you. How they treated you...

“But sweet Yurielle...” his other hand came again to her face, tracing the side of it gently. “I also saw how you held your secrets inside of you. I know that you've always understood this power you hold was different. In spite of what they've tried to shape you into, you have always stayed true to yourself. I however....” he shook his head; his eyes were shadowed and dark with personal questions of his own.

Yurielle raised her other hand and carefully lowered his hood away from his face so that she could better view him. “Raistlin...” her sad voice sent tingles up his spine as she spoke his name. “You heard what I said back there. I exist this way because I must. Without mages like you,” her fingers ran lightly along his jaw as she spoke, “I would have no purpose.”

Raistlin allowed himself to sigh at Yurielle's soft touch before he pressed his forehead down to hers. She was staring up at him, her eyes devastatingly sad and beautiful. They seemed to plead with him for comfort, but he had no idea how to offer it.

So many unexpected questions had risen within him since meeting this woman, and again, they tumbled endlessly within the archmage. Not only questions, but feelings and emotions as well. Not to mention the vast uncertainty that she brought up inside of him. These things he had never experienced with any other person in the entirety of his life.

He had told Riverwind that Yurielle was his star and in this moment, the archmage knew that she was so much more than that to him. Raistlin also understood then that he wasn't just losing this battle against the weakness that had grown within him, he had already lost. He had lost the moment he saw her in the crypts beneath the Library in Palanthas.

Her indigo eyes held him in the depths of her sadness, but at the same time, they seemed to be the answers to all of his questions.

So be it.

Golden eyes locked with hers, Raistlin hesitantly met her lips with his. This time he pressed deeply against her soft, yielding flesh. Allowing himself to truly explore this simple admittance of his feelings.

Raistlin's kiss was careful and slow, as if unsure he was doing it right.

Yurielle reached up with both hands to either side of his face and held him there as she met his mouth with her own. Reassuring him that yes indeed he was. Gods he was doing it right! Her lips melded with warm gold as they gently kissed one another in the silent chamber.

The sudden ring of the Tower's dinner gong startled them both apart.

The two mages shyly met each other's flushed faces. Raistlin gave a smirk before pressing his lips to her forehead then drawing away from her. “The funeral and ceremony will begin soon Yurielle. People will talk if we do not attend.”

Yurielle laughed at the interruption and could not even pretend to hide the blush that had spread across her skin. “Heaven forbid that either one of us ever be the center of scandalous talk Raistlin Majere!” she teased, his affections reigniting her playfulness.

He chuckled softly and took her hand in his. “Come Yurielle, I have enough rumors surrounding my person that I'd hate to taint your pure reputation by adding a scandalous one to the mix.”

“Oh yes I can hear it now! How the only known Sorcerer of wild magic has shacked up with a dark wizard in his Tower!” she laughed. Wiping the remnants of tears from her eyes, Yurielle allowed Raistlin to pull her from the room and down the hall to rejoin the other mages.

Yurielle looked at their hands between them and at how he had unconsciously woven his fingers with hers. The memory of that night when he had led her through the dark streets of Palanthas came back to her then.

Like that night, _this_ was a gentler Raistlin, a protective one. Yet, even though she knew that he was dangerous, Yurielle did not fear him as she allowed the archmage to guide her through the silent halls.

Staring at him as she walked, Yurielle reflected on the fact that she loved this man. His presence was soothing to her. His darkness dulled the blinding and confusing light of her existence, allowing her to see her path. She needed him and would give anything to stay beside him.

A secret smile spread across her face as she thought of this and considered this very moment. Yes he had drawn away from her this past week, but she should have known that he had done so for a reason. However, whatever the reason was, it seemed to not matter right now, for the Raistlin she knew him to really be was right here with her.

She squeezed his hand and the action caused him to glance back at her. A ghost of a smile touched his lips before he returned his attention to their path and Yurielle's heart nearly burst at the sight of that tiny smile.

Yes, this was Raistlin Majere. Her beautiful Hourglass Mage.

As she had been watching him while they walked down the charred halls, Yurielle knew that his eyes were taking in the harm that her fire and voice had inflicted on these ancient walls. They didn't get far before she tugged at his hand. “This way Raistlin. You asked to see the damage I wrought within the Tower. Come and see for yourself.”

He paused and looked at her, “Only if you are certain Yurielle...”

She turned and pulled him down another hall in answer. Soon their steps slowed, for before them, the hall was filled with crystalline shards of ice. The mages here at Wayreth had cleared away the spikes of her anger down the other halls but they had not finished going down the one that led to her former chamber.

Raistlin stood and observed the large shards with curiosity.

Yurielle viewed them with disgust.

Reaching out she flicked a finger against the surface of the nearest. It shattered in a million pieces and fell to the floor with the sound of tinkling rain.

“Your chamber is down that hall,” he stated, remembering clearly the way she had taken him the first time when he had come here. His presence then had been a catalyst to her change.

Yurielle met his eyes and nodded.

“If there is anything you left behind, now is the time to retrieve it.”

She thought a moment and gave him a knowing smirk. “You just want to watch me remove that which the other mages seem unable to.”

“I'm usually not so transparent,” he replied evenly but she could tell she had hit the mark, for his eyes were indeed curious as he watched her.

She gave him a dimpled smile and continued down the hall in front of them. Humming softly to herself, she continued to break the strange shards of ice that did not melt.

Raistlin watched her as she used her wild magic. The hairs on his body stood on end as her voice hummed around him. The sound and feel of that strange power again filled his veins.

Gods how he had missed her!

If two months away from her had been bad, the past few days being distant from her was an agony. He had been a fool to think separating himself from her would lessen the sting of the memories that he had seen. For in that moment, Raistlin suddenly realized that it had made it worse. So much worse.

Raistlin could see the hurt in her own eyes, the hesitance, the uncharacteristic shielding of her own emotions. He scowled to himself as he followed her in silence, for he then understood how just as she was rubbing off on him, he was also rubbing off on her. Raistlin disliked any dimming of his star and he only hoped that the damage that may have caused this little change in her could be undone.

They entered the shambles of her old living quarters. The door was still blistered and the far wall still had a large hole where her voice had torn it asunder. Raistlin came to her side as she stood in the middle of the tiny space, her eyes roaming over her few possessions that she had left behind.

“Yurielle?” he asked when the silence stretched on.

She looked up at him and met his eyes. “This... this was where I lived my whole life Raistlin,” she stated, her hands out at her sides. “This tiny room... this was me once. Before I met you.”

His eyes roamed around the space before falling back on her. He didn't quite understand what she meant.

“Empty... meaningless...” she was saying. “That was my life. Now that I'm back here again I find that there's nothing left that I want. I don't belong here anymore. I belong with you,” she said softly. Raistlin closed the space between them as she rubbed her eyes wearily. “I'm so tired... I just want to go home. Let's go home Raistlin.”

A golden hand on her chin pulled her face back up to his. Raistlin didn't say anything, only kissed her softly again. That warmth spread inside of his chest once more, but Raistlin didn't fight the feeling this time as their lips carefully danced. He knew that he had lost this battle and in the absence of the will to fight it was now a need to understand what was happening to him.

A need to understand as well as the willingness to accept the fact that he could not live without Yurielle. He knew this before, but now, in this moment, Raistlin Majere embraced it as complete and ultimate fact.

Or, at least, he was willing to try.

Yurielle deepened the kiss they shared. Her soft lips ached for more of his as both of her hands gently wrapped around the archmage and pulled him closer to her.

Raistlin's breath caught in surprise when he felt her press her body against his. The softness of her curves against his chest intensified the warmth spreading through him. Unconsciously his hand pressed against her back, bringing her even tighter to him. Responding to her lips against his, Raistlin's other hand wove into the hair at the nap of her neck, holding her face to his as they kissed. His lips grew more bold as he took cues from hers. The archmage's mind learning this new technique that she was freely sharing with him and then applying it with the same efficiency he used in all aspects of his life.

And once again the gong interrupted them.

“Damn it all to the Abyss!” Raistlin growled irritatedly as he pulled away from her. “I'm going to melt that gong into kender trinkets before this night is out!” He could feel his own skin tint with a frustrated blush and his breath was quicker than he realized now that they were separated.

Yurielle honestly couldn't help it when she started laughing.

She laughed bright and cheerfully at Raistlin and at the silliness of it all. Being irrupted not once, but twice by that damnable gong. Taking his hand in hers she tugged him along once more. “Let's go Raistlin. I feel my ears burning already with the talk of scandal. We'd better make an appearance before the proceedings begin. Besides, if you melt that gong, when will anyone know when to come to dinner?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed everything in this chapter! It's a bit romancy but I hoped it worked out okay. Also the drawing is my first digital color one that I've been happy enough with to share! Still learning my technique.  
> Also ANNOUNCEMENT -  
> I just want to let all my wonderful readers know that life's been a bit complicated recently for me. With work and personal life things, I haven't had much time at all to work on the story and I'm beginning to fear the trend may continue for the summer.  
> I have chapters for weekly updates until mid August (now being the end of May) But I wanted to forewarn everyone I may have to start spreading the updates out at least until things calm down if I feel that I'm running out of time and not able to write new material. I will keep you all updated!  
> Thank you again for reading :)  
> Oh and here's a YouTube link to Nightwish's song Nemo -https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AGWBmZnZdkw  
> And no it's not the fish. Nemo means Nobody in Latin :D


	33. Allies and Honesty

Yurielle and Raistlin joined the crowd of mages that had stayed at Wayreth through the meeting and vote. Soon word had spread through every Order of what the Conclave members had witnessed inside the Hall of Mages. Every wizard in attendance now knew to the folly of the previous Heads of the Conclave, they all knew the secrets upon which the magehood had been built and of the blood that had been spilled.

All were uncertain about this new power that the woman Yurielle represented. But they had felt the presence of the gods of magic stirring the air around them and many took this to be a sign. It didn't mean that everyone accepted this or was openly willing to embrace this 'new' magic - for it seemed to rival their own. And because of this, many left before the funeral could begin.

Many wizards turned their backs on this new Conclave and on this new magehood. Only time would tell if paths would ever cross again or of what repercussions would come about because of this split.

But for now, as Yurielle and Raistlin entered the courtyard just as the ceremony of remembrance was about to begin, those that stayed behind were willing to see what things would bring during this uncertain time.

Raistlin stood by Yurielle's side as the night wore on and the body of Justarius was burned and given to the forest of Wayreth. The archmage was near her as a feast in honor of the dead began. He stayed nearby as many mages approached the woman to speak with her. He listened as some exchanged warm words with her. While some were questioning her, a few were openly hostile, but Raistlin knew that Yurielle was strong enough to not need him to interfere as she dealt with them herself.

The archmage let her fight her battles, though he saw how they were taking a toll on her. As the hours wore on, Yurielle began to look weary in his eyes. But, she was strong and would endure through this night and beyond and would continue to light the way for him and for others.

This, he knew to be true.

As he watched her deal and interact with the curious and angry mages around her, Yurielle's strength astounded him. Seeing this, and how she handled the situation, Raistlin began to question his own life and how he had reacted to the things that had happened to him.

Through the memories of Justarius, Raistlin had seen her face and how never, not even once, did she put up a mask to hide behind when things got hard for her. She had never been bitter or cynical, never used anyone to get what she wanted. Even now, after all that had happened, still she did not do this. Instead, she accepted the obstacle in front of her it with grace and handled it with a sense of duty instead of brute force or threats to overcome it.

How different she was from him! And, not for the first time - but instead perhaps the most profound of times - Raistlin saw how wrong he had had been in so many of his life's choices.

His choices were prideful and arrogant, driven with a ravenous need to further himself above anyone else at all cost. Yurielle by comparison worked with her peers and with them, carved her new path. Her ways were so humble and... _human_.

'Yes... human,' he thought as he looked down at her standing next to his side while she graciously spoke with a group of black robed wizards. Soon the three left their presence and he saw Yurielle take a breath to compose herself again. The trio had questions for her on the ambient and how it worked with death magic. Yurielle had masterfully handled their questions with more grace and kindness than the archmage thought necessary. For Yurielle had no answers for them and had every right to refuse to speak to them, especially in light of where her sister was concerned. But, as typical of her, she gave her attention to all who wished to speak to her this night, including black robes interested in necromancy.

Lightly Raistlin ran a hand down her back and rested it at the base of her spine. “How are you holding up?” he asked quietly once they were finally alone.

She smiled up at him. “I'm exhausted,” she admitted. “But, I will stay until I feel it is right for me to leave. There are so many yet to talk to. I sense that there are several who are uneasy about me and what this all could mean. I wish to calm as many fears as I can before the night is out.”

Raistlin nodded in understanding and pulled her to himself just slightly. The action wasn't quite a hug, but it brought her closer against him than what was perhaps appropriate for a master and his apprentice. Yurielle seemed to realize this and her cheeks colored just slightly, but she made no move to step away. Instead she lightly touched his hand that he held onto the Staff of Magius with, brushing the metallic surface of his skin with a feather light caress, earning her one of his small, secret smiles.

“Yurielle!” a loud voice boomed over the din of conversations from the other mages in the courtyard. The two turned to see a tall man with a thick black beard and burly physique, wearing the red robes of Lunitari, coming towards them.

“Sarel!” the woman exclaimed happily and flung herself up into the big man's arms when he neared.

The man chuckled and swung Yurielle around as she giggled in glee, her musical voice filling the space. Raistlin took a respectable step back and arched an eyebrow at the affectionate and childish display. Finally the other mage lowered her back to the ground.

“Yurielle!” the man said again with a grin. “It is so good to see you my dear!”

“And you Sarel!” Yurielle beamed and then turned to the archmage. “Raistlin, this is Sarel Starmantle he...”

“Is owner of the Sage's Rest,” Raistlin inclined his head in greeting. “I thank you for your hospitality in housing me that night.”

Sarel waved a large hand and said gruffly, “Give it no thought. I am glad things have worked out.” The man gave Raistlin a hard stare. “But, I will be honest archmage; I would have left you in the gutter if it were not for Yurielle. She has a way of melting even this old heart.”

Yurielle smiled at her friend, her dimples flashed deeply in her cheeks as she ignored the hard look between the two men. “You liar! You are such a softy that you wouldn't turn away a wounded draconian if they needed help!”

The big man broke his gaze from Raistlin with a fluster. “Not so!” he exclaimed, though, Raistlin knew that the woman was correct. When he had left that morning and had seen where it was he had stayed, the archmage had made sure to learn of the Inn's owner and his family. The big man put on a gruff show but, by all accounts, he had a kind heart.

“Never the less I am grateful for your generosity,” Raistlin offered a slight bow. “I have not forgotten the debt in which I owe you Sarel. If you ever need the assistance of the Dark Tower, you have only to ask.”

Again Sarel shook his head. “Nay, do not trouble yourself archmage. That you have housed and protected Yurielle through this trying time is more than enough payment for a nights lodging and a flask of my good brandy.” A large grin spread beneath the beard when he saw Yurielle's face blush at being caught in her thieving.

“Very well,” Raistlin accepted this. He then surprised both the red robed wizard and the woman beside him when he said, “But I shall I extend my invitation to you if you wish to be among the first to come study at the Tower.”

Both Sarel and Yurielle's eyes widened at the archmage's unexpected offer.

Sarel stammered for a moment before he cleared his throat and bowed stiffly. “In that offer I am honored Archmagus. Even if it is just to visit with my dear friend and make sure that she is well.” His dark eyes dropped to Yurielle and Raistlin did not miss the subtle hint coming from the big man.

The red robe did not trust Raistlin and it became very clear to the archmage that the man suspected some nefarious foul play was involved in Yurielle's reasoning for going to the Tower. Also, Raistlin figured, Sarel had his doubts in why Yurielle continued to stay beside the archmage.

Sweet trusting Yurielle did not catch this and only beamed up at her towering friend. “I would love that very much Sarel! It would make my day to have an old friend so near. I can't wait to show you the books!”

“Then I graciously accept your invitation,” Sarel bowed with a wide grin at her excitement. “Once the ashes of this day have settled, I will come pay you a visit.”

“Then it is decided,” Raistlin agreed with as much nicety as he could muster. He wasn't surprised that her old friend had suspicions. In fact, he was sure that most had similar thoughts he realized as his eyes scanned the crowd and found that many were eyeing the couple.

Sighing inwardly, Raistlin then decided it would be prudent to put some distance between himself and her. “Now, if you would both excuse me, there are matters in which I must attend to.” And with that, the archmage took his leave of her side to continue his own rounds through the crowd in order to stretch his influence and social circle.

Raistlin ignored the curious look that Yurielle gave him as he left. Going out among the gathering of wizards, Raistlin Majere then did what he had long wanted to, he got to know his fellow mages. Because of the circumstances around his own Test and the rumors surrounding him, he had never truly been accepted amongst the other wizards. No master had taken him on as an apprentice as he would have liked, no higher up mage had extended any sort of invitation to learn from them.

Because of this, Raistlin had made his own way through life and, with the exception of the wizard Horkin, he hadn't officially learned from any other magic-user after his Test. Horkin was a brown robed mage, one who hadn't taken his own Test of High Sorcery. Therefore the man wore that color of robe to show his low rank.

Despite this, the crotchety old man was a wealth of information and experience in combat casting and had, surprisingly, been a large influence for young Raistlin. Idly the archmage wondered what had ever become of the old bald mercenary. Perhaps one day he'd find out.

As the night continued Raistlin spoke with many mages that he had never met before. He learned of many others and foresaw several alliances and potential candidates that would be welcomed within his Tower. Many came to him with thanks, for they had been at Wayreth the Night of the Eye five years ago when Takhisis had robbed them all of their magic. Raistlin had saved the Tower and those gathered within from the Death Knight Soth, thus forever putting the Conclave in his debt.

Until now, no one had ever thanked him for this role during that terrifying night and a part of Raistlin was amazed at just how many remembered the occurrence and showed their gratitude to him.

This too surprised the archmage, for he realized he did not need to use threats and fear to gain rank. He finally began to understand how the magehood perceived him. Not as the renegade monster hidden within a cursed Tower, but as an ambitious and powerful black robe with an open mind and willingness to do what was needed.

Many seemed to view him as a new course for the order of wizards. One not confined to the strict restraints that had led the previous Heads astray. For the first time in his life, a sense of pride began to take root within Raistlin, for he was finally a part of something greater and perhaps newer than what had been before. The other mages had accepted him long before Raistlin had even considered himself to be one of them and this new perspective greatly shifted his own view of his standing within the Order.

Through all of his conversations, Raistlin's eyes continued to fall on Yurielle from across the courtyard, always making sure that she was still shining as brightly as before. He found himself being caught off guard by what this woman had done to his life as he observed her radiance.

So very much was different now and Raistlin Majere could see how her light had indeed illuminated a new path for him. This path was one that he had never before considered or thought possible and in that moment the archmage was overwhelmed with such gratitude and awe that he had to excuse himself to go calm the racing of his heart and regather his thoughts.

It was at this time that Dalamar the Dark found his Shalafi.

 

***

 

“There you are,” the elf's voice interrupted Raistlin's inner thoughts as his eyes had once again strayed to find Yurielle among the throng of other mages. She was never hard to find, for she was the only one - with the exception of the elves present - who did not decay in his eyes.

Raistlin pulled his gaze from her to regard his former apprentice. “Dalamar,” he nodded and lifted his half-filled wine glass in toast to the elf. “Congratulations again. You are moving up in the world.”

Dalamar scoffed but with good humor. “All because of you my Shalafi.” The elf then followed the other man's previous eye-line and found Yurielle standing with a small group of white robes. Sisne was by her side now, the red robed Sarel having long since left. The two women were standing with arms woven together as they talked with others, as if the older woman had sensed that Yurielle needed a friend and had come to her aid.

“If I may be so bold as to offer a word of advice,” Dalamar said after a moment's thought. He turned his attention back to his master before continuing, “You best make her yours before you drive yourself insane with the want.”

The archmage's eyes were golden daggers as they shot to the dark elf.

Dalamar shrugged nonchalantly. “Just saying.”

“I will not sully her with base desires for no reason dark elf,” Raistlin's voice was scathing in his anger. “Not all men live life for the fleeting pleasures that a rut in the leaves may offer.”

Dalamar's head tilted to the side as he regarded Raistlin, ignoring the hostile glare that he had grown used to during his years with the golden skinned human. “You can see her... can't you?”

The elf's sudden question disarmed Raistlin's anger, banishing it as quickly as it had flared.

“Hmm I thought as much,” Dalamar took a sip of his wine when the archmage said nothing. “She's beautiful yes, but no man stares at anything quite so hard unless it was the only salvation to them. I am not blind,” the elf added, his eyes softening, “I remember how you once looked at me when I first came to be under your instruction. Though, admittedly, you never stared at me quite so intensely.”

Their eyes met and when Raistlin did not deny it, Dalamar only nodded with a knowing smile. “I know that elves do not age as fast in your cursed sight. I am honored to have eased your suffering, if only briefly.”

“Dalamar...” Raistlin began, a hint of how uncomfortable he was in his voice, but the elf cut him off.

“I _am_ honored,” the elf insisted as he took a step closer, “and I would have done anything you would have wished of me. Be it friendship or something more,” he added quietly. “I am not ashamed to admit it and I see it in your eyes, you have given thought to it as well. But,” he offered a charming smirk. “Such a thing did not come to pass for us.”

He took a small sip of his wine again. “I adore Jenna, no matter how unlikely of a couple we perhaps make. Though, you and I would have been far more of a challenge.” Dalamar shrugged and shook his head, his eyes falling again on Yurielle. A smile spread across his perfect elven features.

“It is of no matter now. For you have one, who I think, will work better for you in the long run. She is a rare treasure then Shalafi if she has held your eye longer than I was able to.” He again met Raistlin's gaze. “Make her yours before she gets away. Or tell her in the very least! I know you well enough to understand that you have said nothing to her about the fact that you can see her. Not to mention your feelings that you have for her.”

Raistlin huffed and glared at the dark elf. “Offering me advice on women Dalamar? You think that because I handed you my seat on the Conclave that now you are the Master and I the pupil?”

“Well,” Dalamar laughed. “In some areas of life perhaps. I mean no disrespect Shalafi, but you only torture yourself needlessly. A rut in the leaves does wonders to clear the head once in a while.” He winked and tapped his wine glass to Raistlin's.

The archmage continued to glare at him for several tense moments. “Dalamar, I'm trying to figure out what game you are trying to play or if you're just drunk. Either way, I am not amused by your flirting or half-assed advice.”

The dark elf guffawed then, throwing his head back so that his hood fell to his shoulders, freeing a cascade of long dark hair. “I have been by your side for several years now Shalafi and I have seen you at your worst. You are a terrible creature to cross Raistlin Majere, so I will never betray you.” He gestured to his chest where the five open sores still oozed, indicating he would always remember Raistlin's lesson.

“But,” he continued, growing sincere, “I have also seen you at your weakest. You have grown ill more than once while I have been with you. You fear being vulnerable, this I know. But I also know that you have vast ability to be kind, as well as the ability to understand others. You hide it well, but I know it is there.” His eyes went again to Yurielle. “She brings these things out of you in ways that I have never before witnessed in all the years I have been by your side.

“You have my word that I will always be your loyal subject,” he continued earnestly, his slender hand now on the other man's arm. “So, as your eternal apprentice and as your pupil in the magic, let me also say that I have seen the change she has shaped within you. I _know_ that I would never have been able to do this,” he gave Raistlin's arm a small, affectionate squeeze.

“You deserve some measure of true happiness in your own life Shalafi. You may be the Master of the Past and of the Present, but time only marches forward. Do not let her slip through your fingers. These are uncertain times we all will face and she is in the center of this vortex.” His voice softened as he watched his Shalafi's face go through subtle range of emotions. “You only need to conquer your pride and let go of your stubbornness and admit to yourself that this is not weakness,” the elf stated with a knowing glint in his keen eyes.

Raistlin arched an eyebrow at him. “You _are_ drunk. Go find your Jenna. I'm sure the woman will appreciate your honeyed words. Flirt with her and quit lecturing me!” he snapped.

Dalamar chuckled then. He expected this reaction from the other man and was not put off by it. “Yes well, perhaps finally getting a good glass of Silvenesti wine _has_ gone right to my head.” He took another sip of the dark liquid and stepped away from Raistlin.

“Jenna is a fierce woman, strong in the magic, and a worthy lover,” Dalamar continued after a brief pause. “I do not intend to let _that_ one fall through my fingers anytime soon. But I cannot pretend to know what the future has in store for any of us. So that is why I insist that you not let this opportunity with Yurielle pass you by.”

“Having regrets that both I and the fair Yurielle are beyond your reach?” Raistlin asked now, eyeing the elf.

Dalamar smirked and met his Shalafi's stare evenly. “No. She's a fiery pain in the ass and too weird for my tastes! She may be able to kiss and have a tongue that any painted woman of the night in Palanthas would envy but,” he shrugged, “she is not my type. I learned that very quickly those years ago when we were both young and stupid. So, by all means, you are more than welcome to try and tame that hot mess. Besides, I'm enjoying the show as a spectator!”

The dark elf's brown eyes were glittering with amusement now as he watched Raistlin's cheeks color slightly. “As far as flirting with you my Shalafi,” he continued, enjoying the discomfort on his master's face, “you and I both know it would have never worked out!”

Raistlin shook his head. Out of any person the mage had ever known in his life, the elf beside him was probably the closest thing Raistlin had ever had to a true friend. He respected him, even if Dalamar ran his mouth once in a while and pressed his luck with his comments. “Perhaps in some timeline or plane of existence, such a thing between us may have been possible...” Raistlin allowed himself to admit quietly. “But I for once agree with you apprentice that perhaps here, there is one more suitable to my current path.”

The dark elf smiled knowingly. This was the closest thing that he would get to acknowledgment from the other man. “You are a fascinating human Raistlin Majere,” he stated, rolling Raistlin's name with his Silvenesti accent. “Let us hope that we both find happiness in those other instances. But, let us go forth in this one with the choices we have made, and will yet make, without regrets.”

Raistlin nodded with acceptance and the two once more clinked their glasses in a silent toast. It felt strange to the archmage, to admit not only to himself, but also to his apprentice that there had been a time when something between them may have come to pass.

Why then, was he wrestling so hard with Yurielle?

The warmth in Raistlin's chest reappeared then at thinking of the woman even as he took in the handsome angular face of the elf in front of him.

Finally, the answer dawned. Raistlin came to understand that it was harder because he felt unworthy of Yurielle whereas he didn't feel that way with Dalamar. The dark elf walked the same path as him because of his own ambitions and thirst for power. The two of them were cut from the same black cloth.

Yurielle was so very different and walked the dark paths of magic for entirely other reasons.

“So... Jenna, daughter of Justarius. Has Dalamar the Dark been tamed then?” Raistlin steered the conversation down another direction. Dwelling on what could have happened between himself and the elf was irrelevant now. Raistlin knew why it would have been easier to go down that path with Dalamar, for that path would have been so much less complicated. However, Raistlin knew that he never made easy decisions. Especially now that such a beautiful, perfect woman had come into his life.

“No more than the Master of the Dark Tower,” the elf stated coolly with a sly smile. “Please do not weep Shalafi,” Dalamar teased seeing the brooding look come over Raistlin's face. “I am not worth pining over and you know it!”

Raistlin let himself chuckle. “I will take that advice apprentice and set it into effect immediately. Your other advice however... Well, that rests entirely on her shoulders.”

The two stood there for a few moments, Raistlin's eyes again had fallen on Yurielle from across the way as he spoke.

She looked up at him then and smiled a tired smile upon seeing him watching her.

A snicker pulled the archmage's eyes back to Dalamar who was trying to hide his knowing smirk within his wineglass. “From the way she looks at you... I give it a week at most.”

Raistlin glared at his apprentice for a heartbeat but let it go. Killing the dark elf would bring him nothing and he needed influence within the Conclave. Besides that, this strange and sudden exchange between them proved to Raistlin that he was, at the very least, fond of the dark elf. He had so very few friends in this world, the murder of one would be a grievous loss.

Instead Raistlin changed the subject. “I have tasks for you and for the others if you plan on staying here at Wayreth for the time being...”

 

***

 

Finally, after hours of questions and scathing looks, Yurielle could take no more of the mages around her. Her head hurt and her eyes hurt and her heart hurt. She felt smothered here in this world of arcane magic and longed to be away from this place that held so many bad memories for her. So she left the throng of mages to find some peace and quiet, if only for a few moments.

Then, in the very early hours of the morning after midnight, Raistlin looked up from his current conversation to realize that Yurielle had disappeared. Calmly excusing himself from his fellows he went in search for her. He knew that she could be anywhere, so he used a locate spell and sensed her a short distance off down one of the paths that led into the gardens around the Towers.

Following the path, the archmage passed by some of the rarest breeds of rose bushes that stayed always in bloom, even in winter. He knew that these bushes were being used for spell components because Dalamar had been able to cultivate several of the same species back in the greenhouse at the Tower in Palanthas. But seeing them here, within this grand garden was a treat indeed. That is, until the plants all withered and died before his cursed eyes.

Raistlin passed silently through the meticulously groomed bushes and soon found the woman farther off the path in one of the corners of the garden near the base of the Tower. She was asleep, half propped against a large rock. Her cloak was wrapped tightly around herself to keep out the chill.

Though it was still winter and only a few weeks had passed since the snow had laid heavy on this tower, the weather turned faster here this far south and most of the snow had already melted. The magic of the garden also kept the plants from freezing. But the air was still cold and Raistlin scowled at her carelessness.

He knelt beside her and took in her serene face. She looked peaceful save for the way she sat tucked in on herself, arms curled in against her chest to shield it the way she did when she was troubled. “Yurielle?” he brushed a hand across her cheek to wake her.

“Hmmm?” she stirred with a sad groan.

“What are you doing sleeping in the rose bushes?” Raistlin asked.

She yawned and rubbed her eyes. “This is my thinking spot. I come here a lot,” she explained as she patted the rock next to her. Raistlin could see that the side she was leaning against looked a bit worn from years of being slept against.

“Even in the winter?” he offered his hand and helped her to her feet.

Yurielle rubbed her eyes again. “It never gets too cold here in the gardens, the magic sees to that.”

“Regardless, you should not be wandering off by yourself,” he scolded gently. “Especially now when we are so uncertain of what our fellow mages may be planning.”

The woman gave him a sleepy smile. “You worry too much Raistlin.”

“No, I worry just enough,” he replied sarcastically. “Besides, what would your friend think if I allowed any harm to befall you?”

She blinked at him and thought a moment. “Sarel?”

“He does not seem pleased that you are in my presence,” Raistlin commented with a hint of irritation in his voice as he idly brushed snowflakes from her shoulder. “In fact, there is a low rumbling of suspicion amongst our fellows that I am yet again up to nefarious deeds by housing you in my Tower.”

Yurielle laughed then and quickly silenced the tinkling sound with her hand over her mouth. “So there IS scandalous talk!” she giggled through her fingers.

“I am glad that you find it so amusing,” he shook his head, not looking pleased at all.

Yurielle smiled at him, her dimples deepening as she watched him.

“What?” he asked suspiciously, noting the mischievous look that twinkled in her eyes.

She shrugged. “I was just thinking, maybe we should give them something to talk about instead of letting their imaginations run rampant on their own.”

It was Raistlin's turn to look confused.

Swiftly Yurielle arched up and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Never mind,” she said playfully and flushed. Turning away from his befuddled expression she ran hand over the large rock that lay next to her in the snow. “Goodbye friend,” she said sadly as she patted the surface with a delicate hand. “You're the only thing I'll miss about this place.”

“A rock?” the archmage asked incredulously, drawing his hand away from the corner of his mouth where she had kissed him.

“A friend,” she replied with her dimpled smirk.

Raistlin sighed and rolled his eyes. “Between Dalamar getting drunk and you talking to rocks, I'm starting to wonder about the company I keep.”

Yurielle giggled again. “You're getting better at this joke thing Raistlin. That was actually funny!”

He shook his head and looped her hand through his arm. “I should probably appreciate the fact that someone finally understands my unique wit,” he stated dryly as he turned them back to the path. “Are you ready to go home Yurielle?”

She grinned at him, her eyes lighting up happily. “Most definitely archmage, lead the way.”

Minutes later Yurielle and Raistlin had made their way back to the courtyard to where the portal they used to get here had once stood. Raistlin had dispelled it mentally while they were assembled inside the Hall of Mages. He knew that he would not be able to hold the portal open and release the memories from his mind at the same time.

Yurielle looked around the now nearly empty space. Most of the other mages had either left or retired to rooms within the Towers. She didn't see any of their other companions waiting for them. “Where are the others?”

“They have decided to stay for the time being,” Raistlin explained. “Remember, half of them now hold seats on the new Conclave. They will be needed here for a while. Besides, I have given them each tasks to undertake before they report back to me.”

“Oh?” she asked as he began his preparations to cast the return teleportation spell. She suddenly flushed when it dawned on her. They were returning to the Tower alone, just the two of them.

Raistlin paused in his work when he looked up and saw her face. “What's wrong?”

“Perhaps we should stay as well?” Yurielle offered quietly. She thought that this indeed would make people talk, her returning to Palanthas with Raistlin Majere was sure to raise a few eyebrows.

Raistlin shook his head; the hair on his shoulder fell along his chest in a soft wave of white. “There is no other place I trust that is safe enough right now than my own Tower. Many accept you Yurielle and what you mean to the magehood, but there are far too many more that do not and until we know their intentions, I want you safe.”

“The safest place is with you,” she agreed.

“Yes,” he said then regarded her carefully, his golden eyes studying her. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing as her.

“Having second thoughts Yuri?” he asked finally, his soft voice seemed hesitant.

“No,” she said firmly, smiling at his use of her shortened name. Her heart was hammering in her chest. “No not at all. Let's go home Raist.”

The archmage allowed a small smile of his own as he nodded before finishing the spell. In a flash the two winked out of existence and in a burst of golden sparks they found themselves back in the Tower in Palanthas at the base of the winding stairway that led up into the Tower above them.

Silently Raistlin took Yurielle by the hand and led her up the steps.

Again Yurielle felt her face flush as she allowed him to gently pull her up the winding stairway. Once more his actions reminded her of when he had led her through the streets of Palanthas as well as through the empty halls of the Tower in Wayreth. Round and round they climbed until finally they reached their landing.

Yurielle failed to stifle a yawn behind her hand as Raistlin turned to her. He was about to comment but was also suddenly assaulted with a yawn of his own.

She blinked sleepily at him and smiled. “Thank you Raistlin for standing by me today. I don't think I would have made it through without you.”

Reaching out he tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Yes you would have Yurielle. You are far stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

She shrugged and gave him a small smile before another yawn suddenly assailed her. “I'm sorry, I fear it's been a long day...”

Raistlin watched as she rubbed her eyes again in that way he found so endearing. Unconsciously he closed the distance between them and reached a hand up to touch her soft face, making her heart pound.

“Indeed it has been a trying day...” he murmured as he ran a thumb over her mouth. Leaning down he kissed her softly once, then twice, before pulling away. “Goodnight Yurielle,” he breathed against her wet lips, making them tingle.

“Goodnight Raistlin,” she said quietly, her cheeks were flush, eyes bright.

Without another word, Yurielle opened the door to her chambers and entered. Closing it behind herself, she left the archmage on the dark landing behind her. She leaned back against the heavy wood once the door was closed and tried to still her racing heart.

Raistlin Majere stood on the other side of the heavy barrier that separated them. Lightly he ran his fingertips over the wood, unknown to him that Yurielle stood against it on the other side.

Both were thinking the same thing. That if the other had asked to join them, there would be no way that they could have said no.

Raistlin turned and crossed the expanse that separated them and entered his study. The words of the dark elf echoing in his head. '...time only marches forward...'

Underneath those words, another presence stirred, one that had seemingly lay dormant these past few weeks. So subtle was the lich's thoughts that Raistlin Majere did not notice them from within his inner monologue and new emotions that she had stirred inside him.

_'Such delicious wild magic...'_

 

 

 

 


	34. Skeletons in the Basement

Yurielle woke early the next morning despite the fact that she hadn't slept well. All through the night, her thoughts had been filled with what had happened at Wayreth. She couldn't shake the foreboding feeling that she had not seen the last of the mages that had left the proceedings early, nor of the ones who had had harsh words for her.

This uncertainty had settled inside of her, making sleep difficult. Not to mention the fact that whenever she had tried to close her eyes, she found that golden ones starred back at her. Vividly Yurielle could still feel the archmage's warm lips on hers, feel his long hands run along her back, making her whole body ache with the memory.

Finally, after what felt like hours of tossing and turning, Yurielle had finally fallen into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. Now that she was awake, she yawned deeply and slowly extracted herself from her bed, peering blurry eyed around her room. And not for the first time, a smile touched her lips.

It was _her_ room.

Again she reflected on how this place felt like home in ways that her chamber at Wayreth never did. The low burning fire did nothing to chase away the deep shadows in the corners and it barely touched the chill of the late winter air that assaulted her as she rose from the warmth of her covers. But Yurielle found that she liked it this way.

The soft darkness was soothing to her, comforting and reassuring. The shadows made her think of the Towers Master, the cursed, golden skinned man who was just as dark as the shadows around her. But Yurielle knew that shadows, no matter how dark, could hide so much. The gods had asked her to walk the dark path and so she knew that with the right lighting, there were beautiful things to be discovered hidden within even the blackest, most cursed places. Raistlin Majere, was no different.

Once, when she had first come here, Yurielle had thought that her path alongside the Hourglass Mage had just been a coincidence. She had once thought that it was not her responsibility to figure out Raistlin and while this was still true, she now understood what it was that had always frustrated her when she thought of her Test. She had finally come to remember that the gods asked her to walk this path BECAUSE of Raistlin. His destiny was so vast and so dark that they had asked her - the one with two magics, the strange mage that fit nowhere else – to find her way to him.

What she was supposed to do beside him, Yurielle still didn't quite understand. But in the few short weeks that she had been living here in his Tower, the woman had come to know in her heart that she had fallen in love with the archmage.

She shivered slightly, not entirely from the cold, as she crossed the room and added a few new logs to the fireplace. Usually Yurielle would have stoked the coals in order to tease them back to life and catch the new dry wood that she had added. But today she felt inspired to try something new. It was something that she had always _felt_ would work, but never had the nerve to actually attempt in her fear that another mage or one of the Heads of the Conclave would catch her.

But the Heads were all dead and the Conclave filled with new leaders that were, for the most part, accepting of what the ambient magic meant. So emboldened by the fact that there was no one to stop or reprimand her, Yurielle carefully put her hands over the low flames and listened to its gentle crackle. Again she smiled, for soon she could hear the song that the flames sang, could almost sense how the air rose in waves from the heat of the fire. Even the wood that was slowly beginning to catch gave her a hint of how the weave of the elements worked together in tandem with one another in a seamless dance.

She hummed them, mirroring the sound in her mind as she focused on the energy and heat of the flames. With a startled cry Yurielle fell back onto her backside as the flames suddenly roared up, consuming the brittle wood in an inferno.

“HA!” she exclaimed, a wild grin spreading across her face. “Obviously I need to practice but it really is as simple as focusing the elements to mimic a spell!” she said to herself and watched in satisfaction as the fire grew and warmth filled the room.

Standing up Yurielle took a few minutes to stretch and work out the kinks that her sleepless night had left in her neck and shoulders. She hadn't danced or done any sort of exercise since she had been shot by the crossbow bolt and her muscles were quickly angry at her as she went through a small routine. Wearing her leggings and shift, Yurielle danced for several minutes as the flame born from her wild magic grew to chase the cold and darkness away.

Finally, aching in a different way than she had last night when her thoughts had been full of the archmage, Yurielle bathed and dressed herself. As she did, her eyes fell on the tincture that she had made for Raistlin that still sat on her small shelf. With a smile she decided that she would surprise him with it as she knew he had to be getting low on the original supply.

Pausing as she dressed in her newly colored robes, Yurielle took a moment to take in their color. She didn't know why they had turned this shade; she had just wanted the magic to make it different than all other mages.

Yurielle was no longer a part of any of the three orders of god given magic upon Krynn. She was a wielder of the ambient power. Though the arcane also flowed in her veins, she felt that power had lessened considerably inside of her and knew that if she did call upon the moons, she would receive but a whisper in response.

The gods had pulled back from her but the magic would always be inside of her thanks to her father. But her mother had given Yurielle the wild magic and that was the path that she would now walk. Clothed in dark blue robes, this was Yurielle's symbol to the world that she was different.

Everyone now would know that times were changing.

Her robes were now midnight blue, the color of her eyes and similar to the color of Fistandantilus's spellbooks. Realizing this, Yurielle wondered why the magic chose this color. Blue but yet the cloth was so dark that without the proper lighting, they still could appear black.

There were always so many questions that needed answering. But right now Yurielle had no time to search for those answers, only a black robed mage somewhere within the Tower that she wanted to see.

Quickly she brushed out her hair and gathered up the bottle of tincture before exiting her room. She made her way across the landing towards the steps that led down into the Tower, thinking that Raistlin would probably be in the library as usual. However she froze half way across the landing, for across from her door, his own door stood slightly ajar. Yurielle blinked in surprise at it, she had never seen his door open before. Hesitantly she made her way over to it and peered inside.

Warm sunlight streamed in through the windows, filling the room with a cheery haze as her eyes came to rest on the owner of the room where he sat behind his large desk. He was wearing his usual robes, but they were half open to reveal regular clothes beneath giving him a casual and relaxed air. He even had his long hair half pulled up away from his face so that it wasn't in his way as he read and worked at his spellbooks that lay sprawled across the desk. She quickly spotted several with night blue bindings; he was looking through books that once had belonged to Fistandantilus.

Taking a deep breath, Yurielle knocked softly on the room's heavy door.

Raistlin looked up from his work at the sound. “Good morning Yurielle. You don't need to knock,” he stated as he stood up. “Come in.”

“I didn't want to disturb you... I can come back if you're busy,” she said, still hovering in the doorway.

“Not at all,” he replied, coming from behind the desk, his robes rustling softly as he moved. “I was just about to make some tea,” he indicated the seating area and offered her a welcoming smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Join me?

Yurielle returned his smile, relieved to see a friendly Raistlin after so many days of his distant one. She feared that being back inside the Tower, he would revert to his gloomy self that she had seen during the recent days. But he looked to be in a good mood this morning and this knowledge lifted her heart.

Yurielle had not been inside Raistlin's study since the night he had brought her here from Wayreth, heart sick and half frozen. The room was still the same as she entered. It still smelled of incense and spices, was still a glorious mess of knowledge, chaos, and hidden secrets. Within it still hummed the unique magic that whispered of the room's mysterious owner.

The gentle glow of orbs and candles lit the room with a soft radiance, adding to the glow of morning sunshine. Jars and bottles glittered on the many shelves as she passed them, their contents both disgusting and beautiful. Yurielle let herself take the room in as he led her over to the fireplace. “I brought you something,” she stated, stopping by the mantel and turning to him.

“Oh?” he added another log to the fire. He then spoke a word of magic so that the wood caught quickly.

Yurielle nearly got distracted with wanting to tell him about what she had done to her own fire this morning and of what her theories were. She managed to focus her thoughts and keep to the task that she had set out to do. Reaching into a pouch on her belt, Yurielle brought out the jar of tincture.

“I wasn't sure how low you were getting. I made it six nights ago, so it's not quite ready yet,” she held the jar out to him. “We've been so busy that I've just let it sit in my own room until I had the chance to give it to you,” she explained.

Raistlin rewarded her with a tiny smile and look of gratitude softened his features. “Thank you Yurielle. I had nearly forgotten about needing a new supply. This will be ready just in time,” he took gently took the jar from her fingers and carried it over to the window sill. Silently he placed the jar in the same spot he had let the first one steep.

“I do not know how long you will need to take it,” she confessed as she watched him. “Perhaps cutting down to two drops twice a day now? See if it is sufficient in maintaining your health?”

He nodded as he returned to her side. “I will try that. Though, I do hope that you did something to improve the taste?”

A mischievous smile broke over her face. “Sorry, but no. It still tastes like ass. Apparently that’s the only combination that'll work for the likes of you!” she winked.

Raistlin chuckled. “Apparently,” he agreed with amusement, only she could insult him so and not bring forth his ire.

His golden eyes meet hers again as he reached out and gently took her hand in his. “Thank you again Yurielle. Your herbal talent still awes me. Perhaps once things have quieted down, you will share your secrets with me.”

“A girl needs to keep some secrets Raistlin,” she giggled.

“But _my_ secrets aren't safe?” he asked, but with a slight upward tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Nope,” she smiled, her dimples springing to life on her cheeks. “I told you once and I'll tell you again. All secrets are mine archmage.”

Raistlin released her hand in order to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You act confident curse breaker, but I have my doubts that you will even want my secrets.”

“Perhaps not all at once,” she agreed. “But I give it a week at most.”

Raistlin blinked at hearing the same words that Dalamar had teased him with last night and suddenly felt flustered by what it could mean. Turning away from her, he looked at the fire as if checking on it.

Yurielle thought she saw his skin take on a slightly redder tint right before he looked away from her. Watching him she noted how he seemed suddenly distracted. “Raistlin?”

He turned back to her and for a moment the firelight caught in his golden eyes in such a way that all she could see where those hourglass pupils. It reminded her of her Test and how she saw those very same eyes in the stars. Watching him, Yurielle felt her breath catch at how the light played on his metallic skin, how it softened the permanent scowl lines on his face. He looked so otherworldly in that moment that it took her off guard and she was speechless.

“Yurielle?” he asked her back, seeing her suddenly grow still. Raistlin had seen that look only once before on her face. It had been that first night when she had come here and he had led her to his door. She wore much the same expression when she had realized that he was taking her into his private study. Yurielle looked frightened. “What is wrong?” he asked quietly.

“Sorry,” she cleared her throat and shook her head with a small chuckle, dispelling the sudden memory that had come over her. “I didn't sleep very well last night. I'm afraid my mind is wandering today.”

Raistlin studied her a moment and noted that she did indeed look a bit more tired than her usual. “I am sorry you did not sleep well,” he stated, not mentioning the fact that he too, had spent the night tossing and turning as his mind had whirled in a thousand different directions. Gently taking her hand in his, Raistlin was glad that the look in her eyes vanished as quickly as it appeared at the simple contact.

He hesitated for several moments before he again broke the silence. “How have you been doing Yurielle? I fear that I have neglected you since the day in the kitchen. I want you to know it has not been my intention to ignore you before the Conclave's meeting. Things... got complicated.”

Raistlin ignored the fact that he didn't just mean everything that had happened with the Conclave, he also meant the growing warmth inside of him that she was the cause of.

He was still struggling with these new emotions inside of him and the possibilities that they opened. However, after what had happened yesterday, he was determined to try today. Raistlin had sat long and hard last night deep in thought and had decided that he wanted to try and accept his humanity. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad.

So far it didn't seem to be.

Yurielle gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I've been... doing well I suppose. It's still a lot to get used to but,” she took a slow breath. “I know you were busy with the aftermath of the fight. And I've been practicing my patience with you, like you asked. I did not want to distract you from what needed to be done. I understand your distance. I do.”

“You must have vast patience indeed if you did not seek me out for nearly a week,” he stated. “There were days I felt as though you were out right avoiding me,” his voice was light but Yurielle thought she caught the hint of uncertainty there.

So. He _had_ noticed.

“I can say the same of you,” Yurielle said back to him then lowered her eyes away from his gaze. “I...” her cheeks tinted slightly, “I apologize for what I said in the kitchen that day. Both regarding your brother and for... my offer.” She felt herself fidget and forced herself to stop.

“It was unseemly of me and I often forget with whom I am speaking. You are Master of this Tower, and of much higher rank than I, and so it was wrong of me to bring up your brother and wrong of me to have made such a proposal to you,” her voice lowered as she spoke. “I forget my place as your apprentice and I also tend to forget your curse. So if offended you or put you in an inappropriate position... I am sorry.”

A puzzled look filled his face as he absorbed her words. “What does my curse have to do with anything?” he asked sincerely. Raistlin watched her cheeks darken further to a heavier shade of red. “Yurielle?” he felt himself ask when she didn't reply.

Yurielle swallowed hard. “For me to presume that you...” she shook her head and tried again. “Your curse. I know how you see the world. Or at least, I think I do. I forget that living things in your vision are not... appealing,” she forced the word out. “So I apologize if my offer was - not only inappropriate - but also disgusting.”

If her eyes had not been glued to the floor next to them avoiding his gaze, Yurielle would have seen the shocked look on the archmage's face once he realized what it was she was saying. Again Raistlin had forgotten how she had no idea that he could see her. She had no way to know that her and her alone was the only person in his life that _was_ appealing to him. He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of her conclusion but knew that it would have only hurt her feelings.

Raistlin knew that he should confess the truth to her. He should tell her yet again that he did in fact see her. He had done so once, that night beneath the black moon, but she did not understand fully what it was he was truly telling her. Or perhaps she just refused to believe that she was what lay at the end of the tether he seemed to have blocked the curse from ravaging.

He should tell her, but he didn't.

“Yurielle,” Raistlin said softly, his hand on her chin. He went to lift her face to look at him but he felt her resist his pull. “Yurielle look at me,” he scolded softly.

Hesitantly her indigo eyes rose to meet his. The sad, almost ashamed look in those eyes nearly undid him.

“Again I say to you,” he began, his voice low and melodic in its tone, “I am most blessed if I have indeed caught your eye.”

She merely nodded and he released her from his grasp. He hesitated a moment, unsure of what was expected of him next. Finally he turned away to begin preparing their tea, taking this moment to also to reform his thoughts.

As Raistlin busied himself, Yurielle's attention went to the row of objects on the mantel in front of them. Tiny skulls, glass orbs, crystals, geodes, candles, and jars all looked back at her. As she scanned the typical objects one would find in such a room, her eyes found one object that seemed out of place.

It was a tiny bunny, carved out of white aspen wood. She reached up for it and gently brought it down. Turning it in her hand, she found that it was smooth against her skin and delicately made. Obviously carved by a master craftsman, the initials 'FF' had been etched on the bottom of it. Smiling to herself, she wondered why the most feared archmage on Krynn had such an adorable and whimsical item upon his mantel.

Raistlin noticed what she held and their gazes met when Yurielle looked up, a small smile still played on her lips.

The smile faded at the look in Raistlin's eyes as he reached out and took the small carving from her fingers. Setting it back on the mantelpiece he said quietly to her questioning eyes, “Memories and secrets to be left in the past Yurielle...”

“I'm sorry... I didn't mean to pry.” She suddenly felt as if she had discovered something he didn't want her seeing. Turning her eyes away from him, she focused instead on the fire. “Again, I forget myself.”

“Yurielle,” he scolded softly. “We both know that you are not my apprentice. You do not need to act like one.”

“Then what am I?” she felt herself whisper, her eyes unable to look at him.

It didn't take long before she felt a hand brush her hair from her neck and warm fingers found her chin. Tilting her head up to meet his again, she looked into his golden eyes.

There was that look in them. A look of uncertainty, of questions, and of longing...

“Raistlin?”

“Hhmmm?” he hummed low in his throat as he ran his thumb then over her chin up to her lips.

“What am I to you?” she asked softly against his thumb.

He paused. “You are Yurielle,” was all he said.

A line marred the skin between her eyes as she watched him. He wasn't meeting her eyes, instead his were fixated on her lips. Those cursed pupils dilated slightly with some hidden thought of his own that he was not sharing. “Are you thinking about stealing another kiss?” she decided to ask as his fingers played along her skin.

“Mayhaps,” he breathed.

Eyes still locked on him, Yurielle gently kissed his thumb. She watched his reaction as those hourglass pupils dilated even more, clearly mesmerized by her kiss.

Raistlin sucked in a breath but didn't remove his hand when those soft lips of hers caressed his skin. He watched in rapt fascination as her pink flesh slowly played along the side of his hand and continued across the sensitive flesh of his palm. The tender touch sending small tingles of electricity and heat along his skin.

Yurielle's eyes still watched Raistlin, gauging his reactions and silently hoping that he would indeed come to steal his kiss. She didn't have to wait long.

Raistlin's other hand was suddenly behind her head and with his fingers laced through her hair, he pulled her face to his. The archmage kissed her deeply and he was awed by how she eagerly kissed him back. Their mouths danced with one another but Yurielle could feel it, the barely contained restraint behind his kiss.

Raistlin, for some reason, was holding back.

But why, she could not guess. Perhaps despite his words, kissing a corpse was not enough to make him feel as blessed as he said he felt. Maybe, with a little more patience, he would eventually somehow find her as appealing as she found him.

Maybe.

The air was pierced by the sudden whistling of the tea kettle over the fire. They drew away because of the sound but not apart from one another. Each gazed at the others flushed face, at the others bright and dilated eyes before Yurielle said lowly, “The water is ready.”

Raistlin took in a slow breath and released her to attend to the squealing kettle, the sound had raised several octaves by this point and steam was billowing from its mouth. “Gongs and tea kettles...” he muttered icily under his breath as he removed if from its place over the fire. He turned back moments later holding a cup of steaming tea in each hand.

Yurielle took one of the cups from him with a shy smile. She knew that she was blushing, but she was pretty sure that he was as well based on the slight change in the golden tint of the skin along his cheeks.

“So...” she said finally after they awkwardly stood near the fireplace for several minutes, each sipping their tea absentmindedly. “What now Raistlin? The Conclave is in shambles. I've been declared a Sorcerer outside of the magehood. Your apprentice now sits on the new Council and you'll have new recruits coming here soon. What is the first order of business?”

His eyes were thoughtful but he tore them away from her to rest back on the fire. “I would ask the same to you Yurielle. Will you stay here while you learn of your magic? Or would you rather learn your craft separate from the arcane arts?”

Yurielle thought for several moments. “The arcane is apart of me and I still honor the gods of magic. Even Nuitari,” she stated with a small smile. “I cannot forget that it is by their grace that I am even here.”

Raistlin gave his own slight smile at her reply. “This is what I mean Yurielle,” he took a step closer to her. “Even after all you've gone through, you still hold onto what matters most to you.”

She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders as she swirled the tea in her cup inattentively. After a few moments she continued. “As far as staying here or leaving... where would I go Raistlin?”

“You are free to go wherever you wish,” came his quiet reply.

“This is my home now. Besides,” she looked back up at him with a small blush, “if I leave, who will steal my kisses?”

Raistlin felt that strange warmth again spread through his chest at her words and innocent blush. He found that he could not reply as he observed the feeling. The archmage wanted to figure out what had started the warmth this time and was trying to dissect why her words did this to him. Why did this feeling kept appearing when he was around her?

Ultimately he knew that it was because he cared for her. But, for some reason, he still could not come to terms that he was capable of it. The thought was damnably frustrating today in a way that it wasn't yesterday.

“Though... this Tower will be starting to fill with more people soon enough,” Yurielle continued, unknowing the turmoil of his thoughts. “Many approached me last night, wondering about this place. I fear the list of candidates may be longer than you anticipate.”

Raistlin scowled slightly at that, he hadn't considered that so many may wish to come. He liked his privacy and enjoyed that this place was his and his alone. But at the same time, the archmage had found that the company of the recent new comers had been a welcome change during the last week. To share his knowledge with others, as well as experience firsthand the powers of so many different individuals, was something that he had found he had enjoyed. There certainly would be more like them. Raistlin had even spoken to several last night that he would not mind seeing here.

Long had the archmage thought of increasing his allies. This Tower was vast and very empty. Much of it in near ruin and Raistlin had often pondered hiring staff to help fix up and maintain the place. He and Dalamar could only do so much. Besides the main tower, the two smaller minarets were filled with rooms that could be turned into classrooms and studies as well as living quarters once they were fixed up. There was knowledge here that would benefit all mages and Raistlin knew this. It would raise him high amongst his peers if he he did indeed go through with sharing his Tower with the magehood.

They would all be further in his debt.

“It will start to feel cramped around here won't it?” he commented as he sipped his tea. “I am not used to being around so many people. It will... take some getting used to.”

Yurielle flashed him a smile. “I don't think it will be so bad Raistlin. This place is huge! You can still go days without seeing another person if you really wanted to. Especially if you open the other towers...” she continued on but he ceased to listen as her thoughts mirrored his own. Raistlin instead was just content to watch her as she talked and became animated in her excitement.

“Plus,” she added with a dimpled grin, “what if... _what if_ I find others with the wild magic! Where will I teach them? Do they even need teaching?” she paused in thought. “The wild magic just comes. I don't know... I guess it's a silly thought maybe that they may need guidance. Oh I don't mean here...” her eyes met his and mistook his attention on her for disapproval. “I'm sure I can find somewhere to build my own academy if there is need. Maybe in Solomnia? No that's probably not a good idea knowing their history with magic-users...”

Raistlin let her continue on as her thoughts rambled for a few more minutes before he laid a hand on her arm. She stilled instantly at his touch and went silent. “All in good time Yurielle,” he assured her. “But for now, let us take one day after another shall we? I first need to figure out what to do with you...” he finished softly. His eyes were equally as soft as his voice.

“Me?” she squeaked.

He nodded. “You've become quite the distraction.”

Her eyes lowered. “Right. We need to focus. Forgive me again, I know that I tend to get off track,” she took a step back from him, distancing herself. “Besides the unease in the Conclave, what else is the most pressing matter at hand?” she thought for a moment then snapped her fingers. “The Bloodstone and Fistandantilus and how we can separate the two of you! I am so sorry I got carried away with my own fantasies,” she scolded herself. “Even above any of my cares, we need to free you first and foremost! We need to start researching and cross referencing any information that we find. I should have stayed at Wayreth! I know the library there like the back of my hand and...”

Closing the distance between them once more, Raistlin again lay a hand on her arm, halting her wayward train of thought. “I have already given that task to Dalamar and the others while they are there. The siblings have agreed to help with this matter. For Geldwyn, as you remember, was a scribe for many years in the library there. He will find the knowledge we need to begin the task. I am confident we can solve this riddle quickly with their help. Or, at the very least, find answers that we will miss here.”

“Already handing out such important duties?” she arched a surprised eyebrow at him. “Perhaps filling your Tower with others isn't such a bad idea after all? Are you getting lonely here Raistlin?” she teased lightly, truly not meaning anything by it. Yurielle was only surprised by the fact that the usually private archmage had so quickly turned to others for help.

“Yes,” came his sudden and whispered reply.

She stood still, shocked with his confession.

Yurielle could tell that Raistlin too was taken aback by his own reply.

Slowly however, his hand trailed down her arm to gently take her hand in his. “I have been alone my whole life Yurielle,” he said, carefully gathering his tangle of thoughts. “Yes I had my brother... but he and I are not alike. My solitude here was my salvation, my armor. Or so I thought...” he ran his thumb over her knuckles, “...before I met you.”

Yurielle's breath hitched in her throat.

“I want to be honest but... forgive me. These things are not easy for me,” he confessed with a frustrated shake of his head.

“These... 'things'?” she asked when he hesitated.

Raistlin released her hand and turned away from her to look out of the window. His eyes on the Grove below the Tower and on the city beyond, he took a few moments as he gathered his thoughts.

Yurielle stood silently by the fireplace and waited. She once again felt like she was on a cliff above a precipice, like she had been in her fever dream. Something vital was about to take place and her heart began to thud loudly in her ears as she watched Raistlin wrestle with 'these things' as he so put it.

Yurielle knew that he meant emotions, knew that he meant whatever this was that was growing so quickly between the two of them. But she waited silently by for him to sort through it himself. She knew her heart, and this was perhaps the moment when he would share his with her. Yurielle held her breath.

“I'm... not used to this,” he raised his hand to indicate himself then her without making eye contact. “If someone would have told me six months ago that I'd be here in my study speaking with a woman, someone that I have grown...” he hesitated a moment, “....fond of...?” He spoke it somewhat like a question, as if he didn't even know if he had the found the right word yet. Shaking his head he continued, “I would have burned them alive for even speaking such nonsense.”

Yurielle's heart fluttered in her chest at this. Not from fear of his threat of immolating someone, but from the fact he admitted that he was fond of her.

It was a step up from infatuation.

“I can't understand it,” he went on after a brief pause. “It vexes me that I've been reduced to this... uncertain man that I've become. It's maddening! You appeared so suddenly and have completely derailed all of the plans that I had. Nothing even seems real to me anymore as you've forced yourself into my life!” he sighed. “Long did I fight this but now I seem unable to. I told myself that it didn't matter... for I'd learn of your secrets and use your power as I've used others,” he voice dropped to a whisper. “But I find that I can't...

“Then, when they tried to kill you,” Raistlin pressed his forehead to the cool glass of the windowpane. A look of pain ran along his thin face, followed by anger and rage, to be finally replaced with a calm empty expression as he finally turned to face her. “I cannot go back to not having you by my side Yurielle,” he said simply. His voice was low and soft, whispered barely above a breath but the sound of his voice carried through the room and seemed to echo in the whole Tower.

Yurielle was trying very hard not to let the mist in her eyes turn into tears. Trying very hard not to go to him, for she knew he needed this space between them to think. The words he was saying were no small things to her ears and she saw how he was struggling to put his thoughts into words. He was putting forth an effort, this much was clear to her, and she couldn't believe that it was finally happening.

“You told me that you care for me...” he continued carefully, his face abruptly shifting to something more serious.

“I do Raistlin,” Yurielle said softly. “Very much so.”

“ _Why_?” he asked harshly, completely not understanding and once again feeling absolutely unworthy of her, so much so that he felt anger rise within him.

Yurielle blinked at him, confused. “Why what?”

It was he that took a step forward now. “Why? Why _me_?”

She shook her head, eyes wide. “Why not you Raistlin?”

The archmage turned back to the window, his mood suddenly dark.

The subtle shift that she sometimes noticed in him was alarming, especially this time. For it was like a switch had been turned inside of Raistlin. One moment he was friendly and kind, the next his impenetrable armor he wore around himself was up and forcing her away.

“You don't know me Yurielle. You don't know what I've done, what I'm capable of. You think you do, but you don't.” The words came out of him harsh and bitter. “You're too good for me! I do not deserve you...”

There it was.

Yurielle's eyes widened as she suddenly realized what it was he was truly doing. He wasn't just afraid to be human, wasn't just hesitant to let someone near, he didn't think himself worthy of such things!

“None of that matters to me Raistlin and it won't change anything! It won't change how I feel about you,” she stated earnestly. “I don't c-”

“Care?” he interrupted her and suddenly closed the distance between them fully now. “You would if you _knew_!” He loomed over her.

“I don't need to know Raistlin!” Yurielle stated. “I know you and that is enough.”

“You don't know!” he said loudly.

“I know that you are deserving of me!” she cried. “If anyone should have a say in this it's me! You deserve happiness and kindness. Nothing you have ever done in your life could ever deny you of such things!”

“Look at me Yurielle!” his golden eyes blazed dangerously.

“I am Raistlin. I just see _you_!” the woman said, refusing to be afraid of him.

“Do you?” he sneered. “You are not in my skin. You do not know the depths of what I am capable nor of what I have done. You do not hear the whispers that I do!”

Her eyes went wide again. Oh she knew exactly what he spoke of. “Fistandantilus....”

“Yes!” he hissed. “He's here. He's always here!” he pointed a golden finger to his head. “No matter how hard I shut him out, now that I am aware of him, I feel him _always_. It has been a decade since my Test,” Raistlin stated, “and there are days when I do not know where I end and the lich begins.”

“We'll destroy him,” Yurielle took his hand in hers. “Whatever influence he has over you we will end it together!”

“Influence?” he chuckled derisively. It was an empty laugh and sent tiny shivers prickling along her skin. It didn't sound like him.

“Yurielle, he is a part of me and without him I would not have endured this long. I would not have grown in power like I had if I did not make this bargain with him. What I have done has always been of my own will. It is true that he gave me the knowledge and guidance that I needed for my goals and it is also true that we will defeat him. But only because I no longer need him!” Raistlin declared.

Yurielle could only stare at him, midnight eyes wide and refusing to accept what he was saying.

Likewise Raistlin was staring at her, watching her and studying every reaction. Dissecting each movement and breath of hers with cold and calculating certainty.

“You _care_ for me?” he asked again.

“Yes,” the word was a breath from her lungs.

“You would stay with me? No matter what?”

She nodded. “No matter what,” she echoed quietly.

Raistlin could see it in clearly in Yurielle's eyes. She did care for him, deeply.

Something inside of the archmage snapped then when all of the pieces clicked together in his mind. Everything suddenly became so clear as he looked into the depths of those dark eyes of hers.

He cared for her and she for him. Neither one of them could deny it any longer. There destinies were intertwined with one another.

But she had to know. She had to SEE. Raistlin refused to let this go any farther until she understood fully what kind of a creature she claimed to care for.

“There's that look in your eyes again Raistlin,” she stated knowingly. “You're afraid. Afraid of me... afraid of letting me in...”

“You really think that you've seen the depths of my darkness Yurielle?” he asked. “Can you even comprehend exactly what I’ve been able to do because of the lich's guidance?”

His cursed gaze saw a flicker of fear in her eyes before it was replaced with that stubborn look of hers. “It doesn't matter Raistlin. You are who you are and I'm the way that I am because of mages like you. You know this...”

The cold sneer on his face made her pause.

“You don't even know what it is you are saying,” he stated firmly. “You think that by being the way that you are that you can somehow change me? That your affections can alter my course or erase what I've done?”

She shook her head. “That's not what I...”

Raistlin didn't let her finish as suddenly he took her by the wrist. His grip was firm, almost painful when he pulled her out of this study.

“Where are we going?” Yurielle asked quietly as he led her along.

He gave her one small glance over his shoulder as he led her down the stairway; the light of the candles along the wall gleamed oddly in those hourglass pupils. “To see my skeletons...”

The woman couldn't help but gulp, thinking back on the first night when she came to the Tower, she had teased him about his secrets and his skeletons. She had made light of the things he may be hiding from her.

Following him silently, Yurielle felt dread beginning to fill her, for she could remember that he himself had stated that he doubted she'd bat an eyelash at his skeletons. But now, all of a sudden, she wasn't so sure that he had been jesting or not.

Yurielle knew she should say something. Tell him that she knew exactly what he was doing. She could feel him reeling his emotions back, clamping down hard on them like he always did as he insisted on damning himself in her eyes.

She saw it clearly, how Raistlin Majere did not believe that he was worthy of her. Didn't think he deserved her feelings towards him. Yurielle knew that she loved him, now more than ever as he led her into the unknown. She could tell him, the words were on her lips. But she knew, dreaded, that it would only force him away. He didn't think he was worthy and whatever he was about to show her was going to be terrible as he tried to damn himself in her eyes.

But Yurielle steeled her heart. She walked in darkness so others do not have too. She walked it to show others the way. If that meant seeing Raistlin's darkest secrets then so be it. She wasn't there to change him and he knew this, but for whatever reason, the archmage refused to let go of the last thread of his fear of her without a fight.

They descended the stairway to the entry level of the tower and went through the left side arch. She followed him, her wrist still tightly clenched in his warm grasp, his flesh felt like it was searing her skin, so hard he gripped her. They twisted suddenly down a side hallway, then another. Focusing her mind, Yurielle realized there was magic here. A strange, disorientating magic that was cloaking the walls and the hallways the farther they delved. She realized suddenly that they were descending again without knowing when or where they had found more stairs.

Down they spiraled into darkness, Raistlin had at some point acquired a torch to light their way, she wondered at why he didn't simply light his staff. It was cold here, and damp. The air was heavy and there was the unmistakable smell of decay and death. Her heartbeat sped up, for also her eyes could see the unmistakable threads of necromancy and black magic. Spell work most foul had been cast here, and the lower they delved, the stronger it became.

Finally the stairs ended in front of a huge stone and iron door. Its edge and outline gleamed oddly in the torches' light as he placed it in an empty holder on the wall. The stone door itself was jet black with streaks of dark gray; no handle could be seen in its smoothly polished surface. Blood red runes decorated the outer edge of the door and in the very center there was a round recess carved out of the surface. It appeared to be a small alcove that was a few inches deep, about as deep as the length of a hand. The bottom of hole was carved into a bowl held aloft by a serpent coiled in on itself.

Raistlin turned to her then, his gold eyes were glittering darkly at her as he released her wrist. Silently he drew out his dagger from the sheath on his left forearm, without blinking he slit the palm of his right hand. She could see blood well from his fingers as he made a fist and squeezed it over the bowl within the doorway.

He turned away from her now, he needed his attention on what he was doing more than observing her reaction. Yurielle watched as his blood fell into the bowl and was instantly soaked up by the stone. The eyes of the serpents began to glow as Raistlin withdrew his hand from the small alcove. Then, pressing his cut palm above the recess, Yurielle watched as he began speaking spidery words of magic. The hairs on her arms and neck stood on end, for they were dark words.

The archmage cast his magic and spoke the incantation; the words hurt her ears and made her head ache. To her it felt like shards of ice were driving into her skull and she winced repeatedly as he spoke. Despite her pain however, she forced herself to not cover her ears as his low and commanding voice filled the space menacingly. His dark magic swirled around them both. The golden sparks of his essence were cold now, void of warmth, tainted with that oily blackness she knew as Fistandantilus.

As she watched the stone drink in his blood and the red runes now began to glow brightly as glowing lines began to appear in the smooth surface. The lines spread like fivers of crimson, revealing more runes and carved circles that were once hidden. They now flowed brighter and brighter with the mages' life blood.

As he spoke the circles began to twist around one another as the stone absorbed more of his power and magic. Finally Raistlin drew his hand away, Yurielle realized there was no longer a cut on his palm as the door split in the middle and began to swing open.

The stench that wafted out at her nearly made her wretch but she had no time to react for once again he had taken her by the wrist and was leading her through the doorway into the darkness beyond.

Very slowly her eyes began to adjust as she realized there was a very faint light emanating from the center of the chamber. Once they drew nearer she saw that there was a pool in the center of the room that was about ten feet across. Its surface was smooth like glass. It was the source of the faint light. She also suddenly realized that shapes were moving within the gloom.

As they approached the pool, the light grew slowly brighter and Yurielle began to hear breathing as more and more black shapes just outside of the lights reach began to shift and move. She instinctively closed the distance between her and Raistlin as he slowed and halted next to the shimmering pool. Yurielle started when his hands went to her shoulders and he turned her to face the outer wall of the chamber, an area where most of the writhing and shapes could be faintly detected.

“Behold my secrets sweet Yurielle,” he whispered into her ear. The way he said it made her skin crawl. “Shirak!” The Staff of Magius flared to life to reveal the inside of the chamber.

It took all of Yurielle's will to not scream in terror.

For before her, stretched out all along the circular rooms outer wall, huddled the deformed masses of contorted bodies. The things quivered and garbled in the staffs light, those that had eyes shut them tight and screeched in pain at the brightness. Their weak milky eyes unable to handle the sudden change from dark to light.

Yurielle's eyes were wide in horror at the creatures, these things were twisted mockeries of living things. Her heart clenched at their suffering, then she saw it, the very faint ghost of remnant magic that had created them. She saw traces of gold faintly glittering around them. She had to cover her mouth to keep a sob inside as tears welled in her eyes. “What...” she stepped away from Raistlin, turning to meet him. “What did you _do_?!” she managed to say through her hands.

Raistlin watched her with guarded eyes of his own. They were hard and empty.

She had never seen his eyes so empty! It was terrifying and froze her heart.

“Behold my failures Yurielle,” he said darkly. “Behold the Live Ones. My attempts at making life through the magic.”

She stared at him, horrified as tears streamed down her face. A scuffling sounded at her feet causing her to tear her eyes from him to find that one of the writhing creatures was attempting to pull itself along the floor towards her.

It possibly resembled something human. It had a head and a torso but only one complete arm and no legs. It was slowly dragging itself in her direction, its head weakly flopping back and forth on a neck that was much to thin. One eye looked up at her when the head moved to meet her gaze as it neared. “No... pity...” it wheezed through a hole in the side of its head she realized was its mouth. “We... are alive...”

Sinking to her knees as the twisted being neared she forced herself to come face to face with it. It stopped a few feet from her and lay on the ground, panting heavily through lungs that were not formed properly, for its breathing was wet and labored. The thing reached out its slender arm that ended in a deformed claw like hand.

Yurielle sobbed and tentatively reached her hand out and brushed her fingers against the things skin. It was cold and clammy. “I'm sorry...” she whispered brokenly.

“No... pity!” it said again, its watery dull eye moved to look at her as it grasped her hand with a squeeze. More masses began to join in with their own whispers of “No pity” and “At least we live”.

She looked up at Raistlin, the man stood still as a statue watching her, his face unreadable. “Why...? Fistandantilus made you do this Raistlin... he made you!”

“No,” he replied, his voice was a quiet whisper but it seemed to echo in the chamber. “ _I_ did this. I, Raistlin Majere chose to create these wretched things because I could.”

“Because you _could_?!” she exclaimed then turned her head back to regard the thing that held her hand. “What gives you the right! This is not living!”

“You know what I intend on doing Yurielle. The Conclave told you as much,” he stated calmly, seemingly unaffected by her revulsion. “This was merely practice. Not entirely successful but they were nonetheless useful as learning tools.”

“Learning tools?! They are in such agony....” she sobbed, her attention still on the thing that writhed next to her. It was trying to find a comfortable way to lay in order to ease its labored breathing.

“Yes,” Raistlin stated expressionlessly. “Practice as I continue on my road to become a God. _The_ God. You heard them Yurielle,” he said coldly, indicating the thing on the floor. “They do not want your pity. They are alive and that is enough for them.”

The creatures jabbered and undulated in agreement with their master. With their creator. To them he was already their God.

Yurielle snatched her hand away from the one nearest her and stood up. “I'd like to leave now...”

“In a moment,” Raistlin said and came up to the side of the glimmering pool, coldly ignoring her discomfort. Reaching out a hand over the edge of the water he spoke a few words of magic and its surface rippled.

Despite her revulsion regarding this whole situation, Yurielle couldn't help but be curious about this pool and so she inched closer ever so slightly. Nearing him, yet keeping a distance, she was able to see images form on the water's surface. “This is the Chamber of Seeing...?”

“Yes,” he nodded, his eyes on the images as they played before him.

From where she stood Yurielle could make out Dalamar and Geldwyn, they were within the library at Wayreth. He watched for a few more heartbeats then released the magic and the surface went dark once more.

“Did... did you ever watch me?” the question was out of her mouth before she had time to think about it.

“No,” came his firm reply, now turning to her and for the first time since leaving his study, there was a slight warmth to his voice. “I wanted to... but I was trying to forget you.” And then, just like that, his voice was hard again. “Trying to forget the woman I met below the Great Library. The Live Ones,” he indicated the things around them, “they were the ones to inform me that the Heads of the Conclave were interrogating you after I left Wayreth. That is how I knew to find you in the forest. This is their purpose, this is what they live for. They watch the world and see things of importance that I may miss.”

Yurielle eyed the writhing masses around them. They were pitiful, pathetic creatures that did not deserve such a fate. But she saw that they seemed to accept it. They preferred it over not existing at all. It was just a horrible, messed up way to view things and she hated it. She wondered if any part of their maker had been imbued into them.

“Come,” he stated then, his voice clipped and distant again. “I will lead you back up.”

Yurielle nodded and followed him but stayed several paces behind Raistlin as they exited the chamber. The door opened from this side without any offering needing to be given and closed silently behind them. Yurielle watched as the writhing masses had followed them, those that could anyway. They stopped on the other side of the door and those with eyes gazed at them as the barrier closed.

Yurielle shivered and wrapped her arms tightly around her chest.

Turning she found Raistlin's eyes on her. He was studying her again, his eyes betrayed nothing of what he was thinking. His face was a careful mask, devoid of emotion. After many heartbeats of silence, he merely motioned for her to follow him. “Dulak,” he whispered and the staff went dark once more. Retrieving the torch, he began to ascend the steps.

Yurielle followed slowly, a cold ball was forming in the pit of her stomach. As she ascended behind the silent mage, her thoughts whirled in her mind. Things were going so well up in his study, or at least, she had thought so. He had begun to open up to her, he had shown affections with her physically, but so far he rarely entrusted her with any of his secret thoughts. He had told her of a few personal things. Like caring for the ill and when his mother had passed. Certainly these were deep parts of his past, things that left a mark on Raistlin Majere's experience.

But this... he had shown her one of his most darkest secrets. Or, her eyes rested on his back as they climbed, or perhaps this was just the beginning? What other horrors did this man have hidden away?

Her thoughts went back to these terrible wretched things down in the Chamber of Seeing. These twisted horrors that he had given life to through his magic. His ultimate goal was to become a god. But his attempts at creating life had ended in seeming failure. Despite this, he had let his failures live.

Could she have done that? Would she have let these pathetic beings suffer in their twisted mockery of life? No, she decided, no she wouldn't.

Or would she?

Raistlin hadn't killed them, even after witnessing his failure. Something in the man let his creations live. Yurielle couldn't help but wonder, was it pity or pride that he continued to let these things endure their wretched existences?

He had shown them to her for a reason when he could have hidden them from her. He wanted her to see his failures, had wanted her to see the horror he was capable of. But was it really such a terrible thing he had tried?

Yes. It was disgusting and she was shocked by the loathing she felt. No sane mortal had any right to do this to another living creature....

Suddenly Yurielle realized that they were back in the main tower and had paused within the entry hall. Her eyes focused on the tiled image on the floor before her. The floor depicted three robed mages, one from each order. Each stood bowed, their hoods over their faces, as their moons shone above them, in the middle of the mosaic. Tearing her eyes from the artwork she looked up to again find Raistlin studying her. He looked like he wanted so say something, but he held back, waiting for her to break the silence.

“I'm going to go outside,” she said. “I need some air.” Turning, Yurielle crossed the entry hall to the foyer and exited the Tower without looking back.

 

 


	35. Embracing the Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drawing in the middle of the chapter again. Please keep scrolling for the rest :)

Cold air greeted Yurielle's lungs as she excited the front of the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas. She was not dressed for the cold temperature as winter was only now beginning the slow release of its bone chilling grip on the city. Spring was many weeks off and she shivered violently as her boots crunched against the ice and snow. The gate sat in front of her across the courtyard and beyond it, lay the dark Grove. On the other side of the twisted trees, the normalcy of the city streets beckoned to her.

Before Yurielle reached the gate the arcane-hunter appeared on the other side. The creature's fur was black and frost covered, sticks and brambles had caught in the thick pelt. “Hello friend,” Yurielle smiled as she neared. While she did, she summoned around her the protective bubble of light that would help ward off the horrors of the Grove.

Opening the gate she came to the creature's side and ran her fingers through the lank fur as it rumbled in greeting. Yurielle's eyes roamed the path leading out into the city, signs of the battle were still plain to see. A light layer of fresh snow had fallen since that day but many trees were blackened and even more twisted than they had been previously.

A thick miasma rolled under the trees and as she watched, several shapes twisted and writhed at her as the undead beneath the branches began to react to the smell of something alive. Yurielle knew now that her shield of light was enough to keep the horrors from touching her but for a moment, she thought about what if would be like to just let them. She was already surrounded by horrors and darkness, how bad would it be to become one of them?

Yurielle shook her head to banish the morbid thoughts. That was not her purpose and she knew it. Her path was not to give in to the darkness and evil that she would face in her life. Instead she was to be a beacon for it, to light the way for those who had become lost. Not only that, she had also come to acknowledge the fact that without shadows, there was no light. There would be no Yurielle.

That’s why she loved the darkness. It's why she loved living in this cursed Tower. And it was why she loved Raistlin so much. But loving him in this way made his secrets hurt her all the more deeply.

What was she supposed to do now? Every thought and feeling that she had been building for the golden skinned mage seemed numb to her in the wake of what he had shown her. Part of her mind could only wonder if that truly was the worst of it. Or did he have more more evil things that lurked and were hidden away in the Tower.

What else had Raistlin Majere done for the sake of his magic?

The gods wanted her here beside him. They had told her that he was supposed to have destroyed the world. Somewhere, on some now lost timeline, Raistlin Majere had become a god at the cost of so much. Yurielle was supposed to help reforge a new timeline, but to her, none of it made sense!

But if it meant saving Raistlin's soul from what he had a chance of becoming then Yurielle would do anything. She cared for him. Gods how she had grown to care for him! It had only been a few short months since she had first met him. Several of those had been spent away from him but even then, her thoughts were often filled with the enigmatic man. These past weeks spent beside him had changed Yurielle and everyday she saw that she was changing him as well.

Yurielle loved him! Or at least, she had thought that she loved him. Her heart hurt as she considered it. This had to be love. These feelings that were consuming her, the need to be beside him, to be his. If not love then what else was it?

Tears stung her eyes and quickly froze on her lashes. It was love. It wouldn't hurt this bad if it wasn't.

But how could she love anyone so seemingly lost? He had twisted the magic in order to make a hideous mockery of life. All just because he could! Yurielle couldn't think, she could barely breathe as the memory of those writhing pitiful things filled her mind once more.

Yurielle felt sick as she ran her fingers though the arcane-hunters fur as she tried to sort through her feelings.

Was this really Raistlin Majere? Or was this a result of Fistandantilus? She couldn't see the man she had fallen for creating those things. But he obviously had.

Did she really know him as well as she thought she did?

Shivering again, Yurielle knew that she should return to the Tower. She was not dressed to be outside. But right now she just wanted space. Yurielle wanted to be away from the magic, away from the Tower, and away from Raistlin and his dark secrets.

She wanted grass and trees, warm sunshine and twinkling stars. The woman had a sudden desire to be free and wild, to open herself up to the magic and curses around her. To be lost in the shadows that she loved so much and to shine and be a beacon for anything wanting to find its way out.

“Come on girl. Let's have a run...” Climbing on the undead direwolfs back, Yurielle turned and looked back to the Tower. She was pretty sure she knew which set of windows were in Raistlin's study. Eyeing them quietly she could never have known that he was indeed there, staring down at her.

Golden eyes were full of trepidation as he watched her mount the direwolf and head off into the darkness of the Grove. The great beast let out a loud howl as it carried the woman off into the trees that swallowed her up in darkness.

 

***

 

The arcane-hunter was not living, so it gave off no body heat of its own as Yurielle rode it through the tangled and twisted trees of the Shoikan Grove. The shield around her protected her from the grasping branches as well as ghostly fingers, but it did nothing to fight off the chill that quickly sank into her limbs. The undead beast raced along the outside perimeter of the glass wall that surrounded the ancient Tower. The structure and grove around it was like a dark stain within the glittering, ancient city of Palanthas.

On top of the creature's bony back, Yurielle rode the beast around the perimeter several times, enjoying the feel of freedom. She reveled in the frigid air on her skin and how it whipped through her hair. The cold had soon turned her cheeks and nose red and made her eyes water as the dead beast below her ran through the trees.

But this was what she needed and Yurielle urged the dead wolf on faster, laughing as the creature obeyed her. The direwolf veered off in another direction, going deeper into the darkest part of the Grove. The great beast's nose was sniffing the air, the blank empty eyes taking in everything magical and dead around it as she ran and Yurielle could feel that the arcane-hunter was enjoyed herself as much as the human was.

But once Yurielle could no longer feel her fingers from the cold, she slowed the animal to a loping gallop. The undead wolf came to a halt, a small rumble issued form her chest as her nose sniffed the air again. She whined and smelled along the ground, clearly agitated as her attention went to the tree line nearby. “What is it?” Yurielle asked, herself sensing something strange about the trees.

Suddenly the arcane-hunter darted through the brambles. Yurielle had to flatten herself against its back to keep from getting slapped in the face by the low hanging branches. Dark shadows loomed in the corners of her eyes but would be gone if she turned to view them. Faster and faster the beast ran until suddenly they appeared in a small opening somewhere deep within the Grove. The clearing was perhaps fifteen feet across and filled with snow and twisted roots. Pale light from the overcast sky above filtered down through the branches.

There was a bone chilling cold here as well as a silence that transcended Yurielle's understanding. Something was not right. Something else besides death and curses held this place. Curiosity greater than her caution, the woman decided to find out what was amiss.

Slowly Yurielle inched down off of the arcane-hunter, her boots crunching on the hard crust of snow as she landed. There was a flash and strange movement from within the Grove that caught her keen eye. The creature next to her growled low in her throat, the thick fur on her hackles rose in warning.

Hairs on the back of the woman's neck rose as well. Something shifted beneath the branches making the air around the base of the tree darken further. As Yurielle watched, dark shapes slowly coalesced and shifted into a transparent shape of darkness.

Too late did Yurielle remember that she should have told Raistlin what she had seen during the fight.

Too late did she realize that she had been a fool in hoping that they all had been destroyed.

Too late to run or even scream.

For as she watched, the shadows beneath the trees grew and formed into the greatest of the Guardians, its pale eyes gleamed at her with a sickly green hue. A sound that was a hideous parody of laughter seemed to emanate from it as it finished forming.

Yurielle gulped. “So you survived,” she said with more courage than she felt. “I know who and what you are! What do you want Fistandantilus?” she asked as the wraith hovered at the base of the tree, watching her.

Those pale eyes, empty of all but malice, silently stared. Finally a voice hissed at her, it was a splintering sound, like ice breaking. “Yes, we have endured,” the wraith hissed.

“Where are the others!” Yurielle demanded, her eyes scanning the darkness swirling beneath the trees, expecting the other two forms to emerge but nothing happened.

“Gone,” was all Fistandantilus said.

Yurielle glared at the hovering abomination. “Then I suggest you leave as well. You will not get Raistlin. Not as long as I am here!”

The wraith floated silently for many moments, those pale eyes seemed almost... amused. “You may have gained some influence over him,” the clearing echoed with the haunting words, “but I have been with him longer. In the end... he belongs to me! And so, in that end, he will _choose_ me!”

The woman glowered at the wraiths words, her fear evaporated in her anger. “He belongs to no one lich! Raistlin Majere is master of his own life!”

“You underestimate my own hold over him you silly woman...” the wraith floated forward. “He is mine. Our connection to one another is unlike anything you can comprehend. I will have him and once I do, together he and I will make YOU ours!”

Yurielle's skin crawled at the threat.

“That delicious ambient magic you wield...” it continued on and, if it were possible, Yurielle could have sworn the Guardian smiled. “It is far more ancient than anything that I have ever tasted. With it, I will become whole once more using his body as my vessel! After I am complete, you will serve me as I ascend to godhood!”

“Never!”

Cold, hollow laughter emanated from the shadow. “How would you stop me stupid child? It is already too late for you to end my plans for the both of you. You are too deeply involved with him. You would never be able to do what you know must be done in order to truly free him!”

Shimmering white light surrounded the woman as suddenly the wraith hovered even closer to her. A skeletal hand of shadow stretched out to her as the Guardian chuckled. “You think that your light can hold me at bay? I have been studying you and observing your magic though his eyes.”

The arcane-hunter growled low and lunged at the specter before Yurielle could react or reply. There was a screeching wail as the two undead forces clashed. Yurielle held her breath, her heart twisting as suddenly the shell that was once a direwolf was flung away from the Guardian with a tremendous force.

With a garbled howl that ended in a sickening crunch, the creature landed at the base of a large tree.

“No!” Yurielle watched horrified as the runes holding the unlife within the arcane-hunter were dispelled and the creature came apart. The magic that held it together vanished and the rotting corpse was soon pulled into the twisted roots of the trees. The empty eyes were truly void of anything as the head sank into the dead leaves and soil.

“No...!” she whispered again, heartsick at the loss.

So shocked was Yurielle as she watched the arcane-hunter be undone, that she failed to notice that the Guardian was moving on her now. Before she even had time to think that skeletal hand was around her throat, lifting her up off of the ground.

Bringing her to the level of those eerie eyes the specter whispered, “You may care for him... love him even,” the words were like ice as the fingers squeezed her windpipe. “But you fail to see that he is me just as I am him!”

“No!” Yurielle choked and struggled, her mind going blank in her terror causing her shield to flicker and fail.

Death rolled off the abomination as darkness began to edge Yurielle's vision. “It would be so easy to snuff you out little star!” she heard it say as her blood thudded loudly in her ears. “I would so love to hear you scream,” it whispered almost seductively. “But I cannot allow you to use that voice of yours. It is unusual that you bring about your power in such a way,” the specter admitted with a strange, almost human tilt of its vaporous head. “But soon I will come to fully understand it. However sadly today will not be the day. Instead I need to lure him closer to me using you. Once he is here I will merge this form with his, catapulting us closer to our end goal.”

“You won't,” she croaked, unable to draw sufficient breath. “He'll stop you!”

The wraith watched Yurielle with those glowing pale eyes that were colder than death. That menacing chuckle reverberated through Yurielle's bones from the contact of the it's hand around her throat. “Unlikely, little bird. He will 'save' you from me. But he cannot save you from himself! In the end, one way or another, you will be ours.”

Helplessly the woman kicked at the specter and clawed at the incorporeal hand that held her aloft. Her efforts only weakened her further as she was unable to make contact with anything solid. Her feet only whooshed through shadow, her hands only connecting with her own flesh around her neck as consciousness began slipping from her.

Just before blackness washed over her, Yurielle heard the faintest whisper, _'Sister... let me help...'_

Yurielle allowed the blackness to take her as she gave her body up to the darkness...

 

***

 

***

Raistlin stood within his study, his eyes still on the Grove. Minutes ticked by as he waited for Yurielle to make another loop around the outer wall of glass as she rode that undead pet of hers. As he waited, he reflected on what he had done today. The archmage felt hollow inside at what he shown Yurielle.

He wasn't exactly sure what had possessed him to show her the Live Ones. But, in that moment when she had been adamant about her feelings for him as well as pressing that she didn't care about the depths of his evil, Raistlin felt the overwhelming need to share with her his greatest secret.

It was his greatest shame and yet also, his greatest magical feat. He hated what he had created, but yet he also could not help but be proud of such an accomplishment. For he had created living things, flawed as they were, out of nothing but air and magic. The things in his basement served him faithfully, for to them, he was already a god. They worshiped him, feared him, loved him.

With divine power, he would surely succeed!

At that very second, Raistlin expected to hear the whisper of the archlich in the back of his mind. He had even braced himself for it, but the voice never came. In its absence there was a strange tingling in the back of Raistlin's brain. The lich was preoccupied, his will and mind focused heavily on something else.

Fistandantilus was focused some _where_ else!

Concerned, Raistlin turned his own consciousness upon what this may mean. Never having tried this before, the archmage was not sure it would even work as he stretched his own mind into the place where the lich seemed to linger.

There was nothing but a void within the place he had locked the lich inside. Only nothingness and a gnawing hunger remained in the archlich's unfocused absence. Startled by this finding, Raistlin's eyes flared open.

He froze at what he saw. Yurielle was before him, held up by his own outstretched hand. The woman went limp, her own eyes closing.

Before Raistlin could react, before he could scream, Yurielle's eyes suddenly opened. Her skin began to wither and flake away, the blonde ends of her hair darkened to black as he watched her pupils dilate wide in death, the blackness continued to swallow her irises and continue to overtake even the whites of her eyes.

Horrified, that which was Fistandantilus/Raistlin could only stare as her black eyes met theirs, piercing deep into the place where the two mages had long ago merged. “Let go Raistlin!” a voice that was Yurielle's yet not hers spoke through the woman as her porcelain hands rose and took hold of the specters wrist.

Pain, excruciating pain shot through Raistlin at the touch and he had no choice but to obey her, quickly severing the link. The archmage fell to the floor in his study, agony ripped through his chest and he could barely stay conscious as a severe coughing fit wracked his body.

Desperately Raistlin fought to stay aware and with all his might he crawled to the teleportation ring that rested on the floor below the second window. The ring would send him anywhere that he wanted to go.

Raistlin didn't think that he would be able to cast the spell to make the ring work, but somehow he pulled the words from the deepest part of his being. In a flash he was within the Grove, mere yards from the Guardian as it held his Yurielle aloft.

On his knees Raistlin watched transfixed in terror and awe as Yurielle, or Ariallah, or whoever this entity was now, reached out and drove her hand into the wraiths chest.

Raistlin screamed as the Guardian screamed. The pain was unimaginable and the sound of their combined agony rent the air and seemed to ring across the whole of the city, echoing in the cold winter morning.

 _'NO!'_ Fistandantilus cried within Raistlin just as the Guardian wailed, “If you kill me he dies as well!”

The woman's mouth turned up at the corners. “Oh no archlich, now is not your time... nor his. Those two living halves of us have a long way to go before they are strong enough for our final confrontation,” Raistlin heard her words not through his own ears, but instead they seemed to reverberate through his very being, the point of origin deep within his chest.

“Soon though,” the woman's voice echoed around him now, both within and without. “But until then I merely wanted you to understand what you will face when the time comes! Now go!” her physical voice now rang out through the Grove. The sound was high and crisp and clear and through the red tinge to Raistlin's vision, he saw the trees tremble around him like frightened animals. “Crawl back to your shadows to lick your wounds and know that I am there within _her_ waiting for _you_!”

There was a bright flash and Raistlin was forced to close his eyes. As the light around him intensified there was a screeching wail, a tormented sound that carried on and on until the light that filtered through his eyelids began to fade.

Then suddenly, silence.

Through the rush of blood pulsing in his ears, he heard the sound of a body falling into the dirt and snow somewhere close in front of him. Blinded, Raistlin crawled forward; his lungs and throat were on fire as he struggled in vain to breathe. Try as he might, his respiratory system refused to work properly and Raistlin felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. This was worse than any coughing fit he had ever endured. But he refused to give into it as he pushed himself through the snow to find Yurielle.

He would reach her. He must!

Trying to blink away the haze from his eyes, Raistlin groped around in the snow as he inched forward. Despair filled him just as a golden hand found hers, his long fingers clutching hers and his throat tightened for she was cold as ice in his grasp.

“Yuri!” he coughed violently, spraying blood onto the snow underneath his lowered head. He shuddered and collapsed.

Darkness reared up to swallow him whole.

 

***

 

Raistlin Majere floated in that darkness, tumbling slowly upon himself, over and over in a never ending wheel. A vast emptiness echoed inside him as he churned and rolled. In vain he pulled at the fabric of magic within himself, using it desperately in any way that he could. In vain he created only to destroy.

Screaming into the void there was no answer.

He was alone.

No, not alone. He was never alone. For _he_ was still there!

 _'We did it boy...!'_ Fistandantilus whispered. _'Marvelous isn't it? Master of Everything! The last one to survive! The Lord of all Existence!'_

“NO!” Raistlin screamed. He fought and thrashed, scattering more ash around him within the void.

Ash, he realized in horror and froze. He floated there in the emptiness and watched as soft ash passed before his eyes. It was fine as sand and smelled of bone and dirt. And he _knew_ that the ash was once a planet.

Looking behind himself as he floated, Raistlin saw the empty shell of Krynn hovering in the nothingness. Cracked open like a broken eggshell, her insides flowing out around him in a grisly sea of death and decay. Left only to rot and fade away.

To be devoured by him like everything else.

“...No...” his voice choked, tormented even as he continued to wheel, continued to devour himself as well as the ash.

Hunger. Never ending hunger and need coiled within him. It was the same feeling Raistlin had felt when he went inside of that place the lich dwelled. There was such suffocating nothingness that he felt as if he were inside and the lich was on the outside. The thought flooded him with terror.

Raistlin could see himself then and knew then that was a snake eating its own tail. An hourglass no longer keeping the past and the present, unable to reach into the future. Forever turning in vain upon himself. Time no longer had meaning.

Because nothing existed to keep time for.

Hourglass eyes fell upon the hollowed out shell of the planet as it crumbled away. For a fleeting moment he thought he saw a shape. A mass of five heads, each a different color lay twisted in the ashes.

Suddenly he stood over the body of the Goddess Takhisis as her divine blood pooled below her corpse. Raistlin was suddenly aware that there was something warm in his hand, something that was slowly pulsing. As he rose his hand to inspect it, his eyes froze. Yurielle lay intertwined in the body of the Goddess. There was a gaping hole in her chest.

“No...” Raistlin's eyes then lowered to the object in his hand.

Yurielle's heart beat its last and went still.

Opening his fingers, the organ fell onto the ash and sand with a sickening splat. “No...!” bile rose into his throat. “NO!”

He was suddenly again floating in the void.

A God of Nothing.

“...No...” he sobbed. His tears surrounded him, only to be devoured by his never ending hunger. “I don't want this...”

 _'Yes you do boy. We would not be here if it were otherwise!'_ Fistandantilus stated smugly.

“No... anything but this.”

'Anything?'

Raistlin paused, it was a new voice.

The voice that he knew was Fistandantilus had never asked him that. There was a different tone to this nightmare all of a sudden. He knew that the voice wasn't the lich.

Instead it sounded like himself.

“...Yes! Anything!” Raistlin cried into the void. “I'll do ANYTHING!”

He didn't care what game the lich was playing now, what scheme he had in mind if he was using his own voice against him. Anything was better than this! Anything was better than this emptiness, this nothingness inside of him, this all-consuming loneliness without end.

He did not want this!

The void was all he had ever known and it was all he would EVER know.

'Unless I change...'

The thought was distant within him, spoken from a long forgotten corner of his soul. Raistlin closed his eyes and turned inward to search for the source of this voice, just as he had done when he had went within to look for the lich. The voice that spoke was his yet not his own. It was faint and tiny, young and vulnerable. Reaching, reaching until his mind seemed to snap and splinter from the strain of it, Raistlin searched.

Faintly he saw him, a tiny skinny little boy that was nothing but knees and elbows with uncombed hair and unwashed face. “Wait!” Raistlin yelled but the owner of that tiny voice darted quickly from his gaze, deeper into the darkness. Deeper inside of himself.

But Raistlin followed, running and stumbling through what felt like endless corridors and hallways. Deeper and deeper inside he went. Through dark rivers and flows of time he struggled to keep sight on the small boy that ran and ran. Those little legs were somehow stronger than they had ever been in real life, but the grown man slowly gained on the image.

The little boy dashed and Raistlin followed through a tunnel into a shabby bedroom.

There, he found the weak, sickly boy who was crying in the dark. But... he also found that the boy was not alone. There was a slightly larger shape next to the child, a small candle sputtered between their huddled forms.

“Look, Raist, bunnies...”

Raistlin's divine eyes flared open.

In the place where the candle had sat upon the floor of that long forgotten room, a star now shimmered within the void around Raistlin.

It shimmered there, where once had been nothing.

Raistlin did not hesitate; he reached out to that light that gently pulsed with its own heartbeat. His golden hands wrapped around it, squeezing it in disbelief.

What was this?!

His hands burned and blistered from the light. But there was a sense of happiness, of joy and of great sorrow. His mind seemed to fill with laughter and music, of a voice he had never heard before. The star beat in his hand as he squeezed. Vaguely the entity that Raistlin had become was aware what this was.

It was magic.

But it was very different than what he understood. Yet as a god he had a knowing and an instinctual understanding of it.

With every pulse of the light his ears seemed to hear, _'Do it... do it... do it...'_

He hesitated and the light flared. A sense of peace washed over him as he understood.

“I'm sorry...” he squeezed his fist.

The star shattered.

 

***

 

Blessed oxygen rushed into the lungs of the archmage.

First one ragged breath that was then followed by another, then another as his lungs began to work once more. Slowly, other sensations returned to him. He was cold and there was a heaviness on his chest and warm droplets were falling on his face. Beyond the sound of air rattling in his lungs and his own heartbeat in his veins, Raistlin heard sobbing.

At first it sounded like that image of the boy. The boy he knew as himself, the boy that he was before the emptiness within took root. But soon the sobs focused as his senses sharpened. There was a softness to the crying, a female edge to it. His eyes fluttered opened.

“Yuri...”

The perfect face of the woman floated above him, her one hand heavy on his chest, the other clutching his hand tightly. Tears fell from her eyes, landing one by one on his cheeks. The curtain of her hair fell around him, the golden end brushed against the gold of his skin. “Raist...” she sobbed his name brokenly.

“What...?” he tried to talk but instead started coughing. Involuntarily he attempted to roll over onto his side to help ease his breathing and open his airway. Yurielle assisted him and he hacked out phlegm and globs of dark blood onto the snow and dirt.

Gently the woman rubbed his back, easing the spasm and helping him overcome it. Once the archmage's airway was clear and his lungs calm, Raistlin weakly pushed himself up out of the snow. Yurielle helped him as much as she could until he was sitting back on his legs. Wiping the blood from his mouth with his sleeves, Raistlin met her eyes.

“I'm so sorry...” she was sobbing. “I... I don't know what happened... I tried to stop her... but she... I...”

Raistlin silenced her by pulling her to his chest. “It's over...” he said through a raw throat.

“Is it though?” she was shaking from both fear and the cold. Yurielle held onto Raistlin tightly, as if she were afraid he'd disappear if she released him.

Raistlin instinctively replied by holding her closer to himself. “No... sadly it probably isn't,” he said quietly. It did not pay to lie to her, because they both knew the truth.

Fistandantilus would never stop.

The archmage gave a tiny shiver from within their embrace. Yurielle pulled away, her hands going to the sides of his face so that she could look at him as if needing to reassure herself he was okay.

“Gods Yurielle you're hands are like ice!” Raistlin scolded at her touch. “When will you learn to dress properly for the cold?”

A tiny laugh escaped her but it ended prematurely with a hiccup. “Come on archmage,” she said. “I think I've had enough excitement for one day... lets go inside.”

Slowly the two were able to get to their feet. Raistlin leaned heavily on the Staff of Magius that lay abandoned next to him where he had fallen in the snow. Yurielle steadied him with an arm around his slender frame.

Both mages froze as together their eyes took in the space around them. In the area where the Guardian had held Yurielle aloft, the snow was melted away in a a ring. In the center of that ring, nestled in a small patch of soft green grass, lay a black stone the size of an egg.

“Yurielle don't...” Raistlin cautioned when the woman knelt down over the grass to inspect it.

“It's okay Raistlin,” she said as her hand hovered over the smooth surface of the stone. “It's obsidian and whatever it was... it's empty now,” her fingers gently picked it up. Turning it in her hand as she came to Raistlin's side, both mages saw that a long crack marred what was the underside of the strange object. “What do you think it is?” she asked.

Raistlin eyed the stone, a feeling of anger and panic that did not belong to him rose up from a far corner of his mind. He took the stone from her. “The first of many pieces,” his forehead creased. “I feel like I should know what this is... ” he said softly.

“Fistandantilus?”

“Yes...”

“Is he... can you feel him still?” she asked then, hesitantly.

“Right now? ….Faintly,” he acknowledged. “He's angry... Whatever this is, it was important to him.”

Yurielle didn't like the strange look in the archmage's eyes and gently took the stone back from him, nearly needing to pry it from his golden fingers. “I think its best if I hold onto this, if you don't mind.” Quickly she shoved it into a pouch on her waist.

Raistlin sighed and nodded, for as soon as the stone was out of his fingers, the feeling of the lich disappeared. “It probably is best I don't have that near me until we understand what it is.”

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, coming back to his side and putting her arm around him again.

Relishing her warmth he nodded. “I just need rest.”

“Me too. Weird day huh?”

He snorted, “Indeed. You certainly make life interesting Yurielle.”

She tried to smile up at him but it faltered.

“Are _you_ okay?” he asked, seeing her face suddenly fill with fear.

“I think so...” her free hand rubbed at her eyes. A nervous, near hysterical giggle escaped her lips. “I think I died.”

“... I...” Raistlin hesitated, unsure if he wanted her to know. Making up his mind he continued, “I saw through his eyes... when he... when I was choking...”

“That wasn't you!” she cut him off.

“Yurielle...”

“NO! That wasn't you!” Yurielle was nearly shouting in her denial.

Raistlin sighed deeply. Talking about this was going to be difficult if she was going to be stubborn. “Regardless,” he deflected and pulled her closer, hugging her against his side. “I saw your sister. You... became her or she took your place...” Raistlin felt Yurielle tremble against him at the memory but she said nothing.

“It doesn't matter right now,” he said and rested his head over hers, tucking her under his chin as he pressed her closer to his body. “Whatever that was, its over for now. We both need some rest.”

She nodded against him and then assisted him along the small clearing to the edge of the Grove.

“Where is... where is the arcane-hunter?” he asked, his eyes scanning the small clearing.

A tiny whimper escaped Yurielle and Raistlin followed her eye to the base of the tree where the undead beast was undone. “She's gone. He destroyed her.”

“I'm... I'm sorry,” Raistlin didn't know what else to say. It felt strange to mourn something that was already dead, but Raistlin felt Yurielle's sorrow at the loss.

“It's fine,” she whispered as they continued on their way back to the Tower. “The Guardian is dead. That form of Fistandantilus is gone.”

“You knew?” Raistlin asked.

“Yes... I've known for a while now what the Guardian's actually were,” she confessed quietly.

Raistlin halted and stared down at her. “What?” was the only word he could form.

Slowly Yurielle's eyes rose up to meet his and she swallowed hard. “I'm sorry... but I've known that the Guardians were somehow connected to Fistandantilus. I meant to tell you what I sensed around them but then you banished them to the Grove...” she shrugged.

“Then during the fight with the Conclave when I was channeling my sister, I saw him. I could see him in place of the Guardian's with my sisters eyes. But then I saw them near Par-Salian when we destroyed him and I guess I figured that they were all gone.” She shivered then, both from the cold and from the memory.

“But he said they were not destroyed. He said the others are gone but wouldn't say where.” Yurielle had to look away from Raistlin and the anger that flared in his eyes. “I'm sorry...” she whispered again.

“You... you _knew_?! And you didn't tell me!” his voice was strangled as he forced the words through a throat tight with both anger and utter horror at this knowledge. He was trembling, both from fatigue and from what it was she was telling him. If what she was saying was true...

“Yurielle how could you be so... so STUPID!” he rasped harshly at her.

“I'm sorry!” she cried and dove into his chest, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face against him. “For someone with a perfect memory, I really fucked up...” she sobbed and Raistlin felt her shiver violently. “I thought I could handle it... I was wrong!”

All anger evaporated with her embrace and Raistlin felt only exhausted. Exhausted and relieved. For they had somehow made it through whatever had just happened. Yurielle was unharmed and it seemed as though a part of Fistandantilus had been destroyed.

“Indeed,” he said quietly as he ran a hand through her hair soothingly. “Please promise me that you will inform me when the lich inside of me is nearby.”

Raistlin felt her nod.

“Good... now let's get in the Tower before we both freeze to death.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this weeks chapter :) Thank you again for reading!


	36. The Crumbling Hourglass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Round and around I go  
> Addicted to the numb living in the cold  
> The higher, the lower, the down, down, down  
> Sick of being tired and sick  
> and ready for another kind of fix  
> The damage is damning me down, down, down'
> 
> ~Adam Lambert - Runnin'

It took some time but eventually Raistlin and Yurielle managed to make it back inside of the Tower. After even more time, and several short rests, they finally reached Raistlin's study. The archmage lowered himself down onto the plush surface of the sofa with a weary sigh. He rested his head against the back of it and closed his eyes.

Yurielle sank down next to him and watched as he sat there in obvious exhaustion. Very quickly his head nodded forward and he jerked awake, those golden eyes suddenly alert as he scanned the room only to stop when he found her seated beside him.

Silently Yurielle reached a hand out to brush his hair away from his face.

“Never scare me like that again,” he murmured quietly. It was the first he had spoken since they were outside in the Grove.

“No promises,” she replied with a tiny smile as she continued to run her hands through his hair. Coming to a small tangle she began to gently work at it with her fingers.

Raistlin gave a small, nearly inaudible sigh at the gentle feel of her fingers in his hair. His eyelids drooped lower. “I mean it,” his voice was nothing but a whisper.

“Do you have any more secrets as bad as the Live Ones?” Yurielle felt herself ask, her smile faded away. She didn't meet his eyes as she focused on freeing the stubborn tangle of hair.

Raistlin watched her silently for many moments and noticed how she refused to look at him. He knew that he needed to answer her, but the feel of her fingers in his hair was lulling him into a relaxed stupor. “I have many secrets Yurielle,” he finally replied and, just as he feared, her hands drew away from him.

“Many secrets,” Raistlin continued. “But...” he hesitated; a small furrow appeared between his eyes as he watched her. “None like the Live Ones.”

Yurielle sat back against the sofa and could feel Raistlin's golden eyes as they studied her face. She let him stare, let his cursed vision wither her way so that she was nothing but a husk beside him as she absorbed his answer. “I see.”

“Yuri?” he asked softly, unsure of what her reply meant. After a few moments of silence he said, “There are many things I wish to not tell you. But I showed you the Live Ones so that you understood who and what I am. Of what I am capable of and the lengths I will go to in order to get what I want.”

“And what is it that you want Raistlin...” Yurielle whispered. Finally she met his gaze and found him staring at her uncertainly.

“I no longer know,” he said honestly.

Yurielle felt herself let out a breath that she didn't realize she was holding. She swallowed hard and finally nodded, accepting his answer.

They stared at one another in an awkward silence for many moments before Raistlin finally tore his eyes from hers. Yurielle continued to study his profile in the dim light of the room. His metallic skin seemed pale and dark shadows marred the flesh around his eyes.

“You look tired,” she stated, knowing she looked no better.

He nodded wearily and let himself sit back against the sofa once more. His fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose. “I need to sleep,” his voice was still raspy yet from his screams of agony. The pain in his chest had lessened, but he found that it felt heavy. Empty.

“Then rest Raistlin,” Yurielle said. “Lay down. I'll help you take your boots off so you can get some sleep. We'll talk later.”

Wordlessly he nodded again and lowered himself down onto the flat surface as Yurielle moved to helped him place his feet on the opposite end. Quietly she undid the buckles and clasps on the leather that encased his calves before pulling the boots from his feet, thinking all the while about the last time she had done this when they had first met. It felt like it was only yesterday but she knew that months had passed since that night when he had laid sick in her room inside of the inn. So very much had happened since then and she reflected on the fact that she felt like a completely different person.

She watched him as he lay there while she removed his boots. His soft white hair had fallen across his the side of his face, hiding most of it from her sight. Tears stung her eyes as she looked at him, knowing how she loved him but also at how she was struggling with what she had learned today.

Raistlin had done horrifying things in his life and he seemed to not care what impact it had on the world around him. Nor did he seem to care about the effect that it had on the people around him.

But, he didn't seem heartless, for he had come to her within the Grove, just as Fistandantilus said that he would. What would have happened if her sister had not intervened? Yurielle had no way of knowing. Fear and uncertainty rolled in her gut at the thought of having to face a Raistlin that had merged with whatever the Guardian was. She had no way of knowing what Fistandantilus had planned for her. But she knew that it was not going to be good.

As long as the lich was attached to Raistlin Majere, Yurielle knew that she was in danger. But she had made a pact. She had agreed with the Gods she would stand by him. So, sighing quietly, she pushed her worries and fears to the side. Right now wasn't the time to dwell on them. They were both safe, the Guardian gone and the Tower empty save only for them. Now was the time for rest.

Gently she laid a thick blanket over the archmage. “Do you need anything right now Raistlin?”

No answer came from him, for he was already fast asleep. Yurielle then added a few logs to the low fire within the hearth. After that was done she turned and paused one last time to look at his sleeping face. He looked oddly peaceful considering what had just happened today. The slow rise and fall of his chest was so ordinary that Yurielle often had to remind herself that he was just a normal man.

A normal human man who wanted to become a god.

With that thought, she quickly left the room.

 

***

 

Raistlin awoke hours later, his head was pounding and his neck was stiff from the odd angle in which he was laying across the sofa within his study. Groaning, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and untangled himself from the mass of blankets that lay over him.

Leaning back he rubbed his eyes and gazed around the room. The fire was still relatively high within the hearth and a small tray of food sat on the side table next to him. It was half picked through telling him that Yurielle had helped herself to a meal at some point. A cold cup of tea sat next to the tray, nearly full. Pale sunlight, either from sunset or sunrise, he couldn't tell, was streaming through the windows.

Looking around, there was no sign of the woman. Raistlin groaned and rubbed his neck as he tried to sort through the tangle of thoughts and memories of what had happened.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Yurielle suddenly appeared through the doorway. “Hey sleepy head!” she said in greeting, a little smile spread across her face. However, Raistlin noted that it did not touch her eyes in the way that it usually did as she came closer. A new tray of food and drink was balanced in her hands. “I brought you some breakfast.”

“It's morning?” he asked in surprise, his voice croaked.

“You accuse me of sleeping like the dead Raistlin! You were out cold for almost twenty four hours!” she said as she set the tray down with next to the old one. Small bowls of warm oat porridge with honey and a light dusting of cinnamon looked back at him and Raistlin felt his stomach give the smallest, inaudible rumble. He rarely felt hunger, but in this moment he was famished.

“I'm glad you're awake, I was afraid I'd have to wake you up myself and I was pondering how I might go about doing that without having a spell flung at me if I startled you,” she was saying as she sat down across from him.

Raistlin didn't comment as he accepted the bowl of porridge she held out to him and dug in.

“Tea?”

He nodded in reply and she quickly set her own bowl down and went to push the tea kettle closer to the flames. As she left, the archmage eyed her silently. She looked fairly well rested, her hair looked washed and brushed, the long wavy tresses shone warmly in the growing morning light. Despite her up-kept appearance however, Raistlin noted that the skin under her eyes looked darker than usual and was slightly puffy. Her normally bright eyes were dull and a bit red.

She had been crying, and recently.

“Your usual mixture or dandelion today?” she was asking as she hovered near the small shelf of tiny jars filled with herbal mixtures that she had seen him use when he had made them tea yesterday. Being knowledgeable in herb-lore, it was easy for her to differentiate between the various kinds.

Reaching to his belt Raistlin detached the small bag that held his usual mixture. Yurielle went to take it from him but before she could turn away, his hand took her by the wrist, stopping her. “You've been crying.”

She swallowed hard and only nodded.

“Why?”

Yurielle averted her eyes from his and it took a moment for her to find her voice. “Yesterday...” she began but paused to lick her suddenly dry lips. “Yesterday was a hard day for me Raistlin.”

Releasing his hold on her, Raistlin allowed her to draw away from him. Yurielle hesitated a moment before returning to the tea kettle as the first tendrils of steam began to waft out from its mouth.

“A lot happened... I'm still trying to process it all,” Yurielle commented as she poured the water into cups.

Raistlin watched her retreat from him, noting how stiff and unnatural her movements were today. She was tense and uncomfortable; her body language was uncharacteristically guarded and closed off. “Do you no longer wish to stay here?” the question was out of his mouth before he could give it any consideration.

Her shoulders tensed in response and Raistlin felt his whole body go cold.

“I don't know...” she breathed after what felt like an eternity.

Raistlin felt like he was spinning in that void again as it seemed as though the whole world had just dropped out from under his feet. “Because of what I showed you?” he asked softly, his whispering voice barely above a breath. “Or because of what happened in the Grove?”

Yurielle quickly added his mixture to his cup of hot water and mint leaves to her own. “Both?” came her equally quiet reply as she slowly turned and handed him his tea, the bitter smell of it filled the room. Their eyes met for a moment but those indigo orbs darted away before they could become trapped and held fast in his golden gaze.

Raistlin watched her return to her own bowl of porridge. He set his tea down, untouched.

Unbearable silence stretched on and Raistlin knew not how to end it or what to say. Because honestly, where could he even begin?

Finally, once they had both finished, Yurielle stood up and began gathering the dishes back onto the tray. “I've been going through books in the library while you've been asleep so I'll be there if you need anything Raistlin,” she said, her voice now lacked its usual warmth.

He stood suddenly as she turned to leave, putting his body between her and the way she would take to exit the seating area. Her eyes darted up to his in surprise.

“Yurielle...” No other words came to the mage as their eyes locked and in hers, he saw nothing but uncertainty and sadness.

“I just need to be alone for a while...” she said meekly, tearing her eyes away to look squarely at his chest, as if she could move him out of the way with only her gaze. “Please Raistlin I,” she paused and bit her lip and he noted a slight tremble to it before she continued, “I just need some space from you right now. I just need to think about what happened and absorb what it all means.”

“I'm sorry...” was all that would come to him as he watched her wrestle with her troubles. Troubles that he knew were all focused on and caused by him. He wished that he hadn't slept for so long, for he knew that it had only left her to stew in her worries for a whole day by herself.

Her eyes leaped back up to his, they widened slightly. “For what? You didn't do anything wrong Raistlin. You were just showing me who you are, just like you said. It's me who is struggling. I'll be fine, truly I will be, but it's just a lot to think about.”

“I'm sorry for being me,” he replied to her question. “For being the way that I am... And yes I DID do something wrong,” he stated earnestly. “I've hurt you, even though I said that I never would. You needed to see my secrets Yurielle. If you care for me as much as you say then... then I care too much for you to not let you be oblivious to what I really am. I had to show you...” his voice faded into nothing. He found that he was unable to continue as the cold feeling inside his chest began to make him numb.

Those beautiful eyes softened as he spoke, a small smile tugged at her lips, brightening her face ever so slightly. She didn't reply, instead she swiftly arched up and kissed the corner of his mouth. Not on the lips, he sensed she wasn't ready for that.

But this was something, and it was far more than he deserved.

“I know Raistlin and I understand. Thank you for being honest with me. I will think on what you said.” She offered him a tiny smile but he knew that she was forcing it for her dimples did not show.

“I'll see you later,” she whispered softly as she gave the side of his face a small nuzzle with her own. She didn't look at him as she side stepped around him and left the room, carrying the trays. The porcelain items clinking softly as she departed.

Raistlin's turned as she passed him and silently watched her leave, feeling as though everything holding him together was snapping loose around him.

 

***

 

The archmage paced in his study for some time after Yurielle left him alone. Over and over he played through his mind what had happened yesterday. From her coming into his study - all smiles and warmth as she presented him with a new tincture - to how her lips had played on his thumb, to how they had kissed and how she had once again insisted that she cared for him.

How he had recoiled from her.

Then he did what he always would do with those that got too close, he lashed out. Before Raistlin was even aware of what he was doing, he was questioning her and then he had shown her the depths of her hearts folly.

Raistlin realized that he had wanted for her to loathe him. He wanted her to fear him, wanted her to see that which he was and what he had done. Raistlin wanted her to think of him as a monster, as the irredeemable man he knew himself to be. It hurt them both, but it was necessary. For Raistlin knew that he could no longer continue on with whatever this was between them without her knowing what he could do. She had to know what he truly was.

After she had seen, the woman had run. She ran from him and his secrets, for even she could not have been prepared to know the scope of what he was capable of. Yurielle was disgusted by him and had every right to be.

It was what he had wanted.

Wasn't it?

Then, within the Grove, she had encountered the greatest of the Guardians of the Tower. The undead wraith had turned out to be yet another instrument of Fistandantilus. It was right under Raistlin's nose this whole time and he had failed to sense it. He had failed to even suspect it.

And it nearly cost him everything.

As he drew himself a bath Raistlin pondered on what had happened next, trying to figure it out. While the lich was focused elsewhere, Raistlin had reached inside of himself to where the parasite resided.

The next thing he knew was that he was seeing through the wraiths eyes. He was connected to Fistandantilus in a way he had never expected. He was inside of the lich just as the lich was usually inside of him. Raistlin watched, horror-struck as the wraith had taken hold of Yurielle and was choking the life from her.

Dread and hopelessness filled Raistlin's veins as that moment came back to him. The memory also caused him to feel a slight stirring of that other presence inside of himself. Slamming the iron walls up around his mind, Raistlin shut out the lich as he tried to understand.

Raistlin had watched as that skeletal hand choked the life from Yurielle. He had watched as she gave herself up to death so that her twin could take hold. The archmage recalled with clarity how terrified Fistandantilus had been in that second, as well as how terrified he himself had been.

It was a strange sensation, to feel terror come from two separate reasons. One was terror caused by something unexpected and unknown. The other was terror from losing something precious and irreplaceable. Raistlin knew which terror belonged to him and the thought of how close it had come to being a reality made that heaviness inside of him smother the breath from his body.

But what was most strange was that the lich was completely thrown off by this new development. For he had not foreseen Yurielle's twin and the role the dead woman played within the realm of the unliving.

Her anchor in death, Ariallah had expressly told both Fistandantilus and Raistlin in no uncertain terms, that she was Yurielle's counterpart, just as Fistandantilus was Raistlin's.

The other woman had done something then to destroy the Guardian to leave behind an empty black stone. It was similar in size and shape to the Bloodstone of Fistandantilus. The lich seemed to be furious within the archmage now. Angry and weakened and because of this, Raistlin knew this stone was extremely important. It meant something.

'I will learn why old man,' Raistlin directed his loathing and hate inward to that dark corner he had locked the lich away in. He felt another stirring in response, but the lich was diminished considerably by the confrontation with Yurielle's dead twin. Raistlin could sense the other as he was trying to scheme and plan around this new development, trying to figure out himself what had happened.

Then there was that dream - or nightmare. Perhaps it was a vision of the future.

It was one that Raistlin had been having so often as of late, the one where he had achieved godhood. For the first time Raistlin came to understand that it was Fistandantilus who truly wanted this. Raistlin had thought that he himself did, until he saw the deep emptiness such an accomplishment would bring about. He had once been certain that he could have changed this outcome of nothingness if he had only mastered the creation of life.

But, after revisiting his failed experiments and seeing the gut wrenching revulsion on Yurielle's face, Raistlin had finally also come to understand that he would never be a god that could create.

His soul was too tainted, too far gone that even with a divine spark, he was not meant to create, he was only meant to destroy.

Destroy and devour - even himself - until there was nothing left. How many times had he seen that very vision? In all of them, over and over, Raistlin found that he was alone in the void devouring himself in his rage and self-loathing.

Master of the Past and the Present he called himself. How true it was and he began to realize that his soul, fractured as it was, spanned eons of time.

Shivering violently Raistlin realized that his bath water had long gone cold. Rousing himself he exited and dried. Dressing in warm layers he donned a new robe and returned to his study. It felt so very empty to him now. Usually his one place of solace, the room he treasured most had also fallen victim to the ever gnawing void that was consuming him.

'Gods... what is happening to me?'he asked himself for the second time since meeting Yurielle as he ran a hand through his drying hair. Slowly he continued his meandering pace around the room.

With every footstep, the archmage felt like he was unraveling. And he was powerless to stop it. All his magic, all his power, none of it was strong enough to comfort him in this moment.

Raistlin felt like that tiny boy he had seen crying in the dark. The child that he had once been, one that had - at one point - been so filled with hope and promise.

Why see himself in this vision when all other times he had lingered in the void before finally waking? Why was there that point of light, when all other times there was only nothingness? Why remember that room? Why his brother? Why those childish shadow puppets on the wall?

Why be reminded of what he once was, of what he once had.... Only to awaken and find that he was about to lose the one thing he cherished most.

His thoughts returned to the scene of his childhood room. He lingered on that tiny, weak little boy who couldn't play with the others. The fragile child that was far too smart for his own good, the sly one who was always crafty and suspicious.

But, in spite of all that, that was the boy who had once found solace in the comforting presence of his twin. His twin had always been there with him, even when all others shunned him. He had always stood up for him and protected him. Stifling or not, Caramon had for so many years been Raistlin's one constant, his only anchor and companion.

Raistlin Majere had forcefully severed that connection years ago for he no longer needed his twin. And his twin was far better off without the dark shadow that Raistlin had become.

Shattered in body and his soul defiled by lich, Raistlin had changed vastly over his life. Caramon had once been the only person that he had cared about, if it could be said that Raistlin had cared about anyone during his youth.

Yet his brother, that plain simpleton that he was, had always been compassionate. He had always cared about Raistlin without question. Caramon was everything that Raistlin was not. Raistlin knew that he could never obtain such an existence that his twin held.

Not now, not ever.

Like the life and death balance Yurielle and her twin held, Raistlin was the epitome of evil while Caramon was the image of good.

There was a sudden prickling in the back of Raistlin's brain then and he knew that it was not caused by Fistandantilus. No, this came from a knowing that he himself should understand.

He wasn't seeing things correctly....

Without meaning too, Raistlin's eyes rested on the small figurine of the rabbit that Yurielle had discovered yesterday. It sat farther ahead now upon the mantel as if it were a beacon and his gaze would not leave the small innocuous object.

Its tiny brown eyes stared down at him.

Not Caramon... No.

Raistlin's counterpart was that thing inside of him. Ariallah had said so herself, directly to them.

The long dead lich that had attached to Raistlin and had fused with his soul, binding and connecting them through the eons of past and present, hurtling them both into a dark and empty future where only they existed within the nothing as one entity of destruction. THAT was Raistlin's other half.

But Fistandantilus was evil, of that there could be no doubt.

Then what did that make Raistlin?

Gods he no longer knew!

The Hourglass Mage wanted to throw the carved rabbit that stared at him with his brother's eyes, into the fire. He wanted to pull this Tower down around himself one stone at a time. Bury himself and his secrets, his failures, deep beneath the rubble for no one else to find.

He no longer understood who he was. What he was supposed to do with his life?

None of it, not his plans, not his ambitions, not even the road that he had walked up to this point... NONE of it had any meaning! Was it true that everything up until now was all done because Fistandantilus wanted it? Did he really have a will of his own!

Raistlin wanted to scream his fury and his horror at this thought.

But he did nothing.

The archmage stood there, still as a statue in the quite room.

He was empty.

Now, more than ever, he could feel the void within himself, slowly devouring him. But the sound of his own consumption within him was silence.

Smothering and all-consuming silence.

His twin was somewhere getting on with his own life. Caramon was probably fat and happy. Living the life that he deserved, contently married and with children of his own.

And then there was Raistlin... what exactly did he have?

Magic.

That was it.

But what, in the end, would it ultimately bring him? What did Raistlin have to show for his life if it would only end with him being devoured by his magic after succumbing to the parasite inside of him? His magic would only end up destroying him and all of existence.

And for what?

Was he destined to become be a God of Nothing? It seemed to him that his life had no meaning for he was nothing but a puppet to an ancient force he seemed unable to keep at bay. He was trapped in a loop that he did not know how to escape from.

Raistlin's vision tunneled, until all he saw was that damnable rabbit. The whiteness of the smooth wooden surface seemed to glow in the dim firelight. Brighter and brighter it became until it was nothing but a pinpoint of light. His thoughts began to run away from him as he gazed at it. No longer able to contain them, his fears and doubts began to pull him under.

Because of who he was, because of what he had done, Yurielle was drawing away from him. The thought of losing her brought forth a burning in his eyes that Raistlin hadn't felt in years. Stubbornly he squeezed them shut. He refused to become that little boy once more... he would not cry!

With the denial of his tears, panic gripped Raistlin in that moment. Anxiety twisted in his gut and he nearly collapsed to his knees from the overwhelming sensations. Instead he somehow managed to sink down onto the sofa cushions.

Holding his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, Raistlin struggled in vain to not hyperventilate. He could feel that he was spinning out of control. Faster and faster he spun, falling deeper into the darkness of his own being. The harder he fought against the tide pulling him under, the quicker he felt himself lose all control until his whole body trembled with the effort.

Raistlin knew what this was; he had suffered long in his life with trying to be the master of his own self, thoughts and emotions. Nightmares were usually the worst of his symptoms, but occasionally, he would find himself fighting a battle with himself. It had been years since he experienced this feeling but this was one of the worst panic attacks he had ever had. The archmage was helpless as he struggled to find some kind of foundation to anchor himself through it.

But ultimately Raistlin knew that there was no anchor. He had nothing and no one beside him. He had no twin, for Caramon was miles away with his own family and life. Raistlin had severed that tie in hopes to set his brother free from his shadow. But it was times like this, that he missed him.

Raistlin had no friends. There was no one loyal to him that would even lift a finger to help him. His apprentice was the closest thing he had to a friend but Dalamar was gone and even he had his own ambitions and reasons for standing with Raistlin.

Then there was Yurielle. This stunning creature that had turned his world upside down and his existence inside out. She was special to him in ways that he had never thought possible. Raistlin knew he would do anything for her but he had ruined any chance he had the moment he had pushed her away by showing his most vile secret. The memory of the look on her face when she had seen what he had created twisted painfully in his chest and the archmage let out a strangled moan of agony. He was going to lose her because he was too frightened to accept her into his life. What had happened to him to make him this way? When did he lose sight of what it was to enjoy another's company?

Long had bitterness festered inside of Raistlin Majere. Years upon years of not being accepted by others, of not having parents that nurtured him in the same way that all other children seemed to have, of never having a close friend or companion besides his overbearing twin, all of it had left a gaping hole inside of him. Now that hole had become all-consuming.

Raistlin knew in that moment that the void he had allowed to grow inside of himself was what allowed a lich to sink his claws into him, robbing him further of any chance at a normal life. He had sacrificed his body and his health for his magic, for his ambitions, for power.

And for what?

In that moment, Raistlin didn't even know who he was anymore. Nothing about him was the same as it had been just a few months ago. Then he had been so SURE of himself. He knew what he had wanted, he had a path he was focused on and it was to be his life's crowning achievement.

Now there was only uncertainty.

Raistlin knew that much of this was because of _her_... this agony that was tearing through his chest and making his eyes burn with sorrow. But yet, he could not find that he was angry at Yurielle. He was only angry at himself.

Not for the fact that he had allowed this change inside of him on her account, but because he had sank so low that he no longer resembled anything of the human being that he once was so long ago when he was young.

Raistlin knew that he had once been good. He had once been able to be kind. He once had a brother that cared about him and people around him that tolerated him and watched out for him. There was once a family, as broken and dysfunctional as it may have been.

It was all gone now.

The archmage sobbed then. He wanted to call out for Yurielle, wanted to see her, to smell the scent of her hair and guess at the soap she had used that day. He wanted to hold her, to kiss those sweet lips of hers. He wanted so badly to beg her for forgiveness. But he had neither the strength nor the will to let her see him like this.

His chest constricted painfully again, the hollow ache was a horrible torment when Yurielle's face floated into his thoughts. Raistlin knew he deeply cherished this strange woman he had found in the darkness, this weird creature that somehow fit so well in contrast to him. He didn't know how to go on with his life if she indeed decided to leave because of his deeds, because of the way he was.

Gods if she left him... there would truly be no light in his existence! There would only be the lich, there would only be the emptiness.

Darkness.

He would be alone.

No.

He WAS alone.

Agony tore through him as his hands clenched at his head, his fingernails digging painfully into his scalp, pulling his hair as he tried in vain to smother the sobs that continued to emanate from him.

Raistlin Majere was unraveling under the weight of his own loneliness. He felt as if he were being crushed by the void that surrounded him.

There was utterly no hope for him.

Suddenly, the smallest pressure of warmth on his spine startled Raistlin back into his own being. His existence sharpened once more as if all the splinters of his mind and soul came crashing back together. Raistlin froze still as a statue. He dared not even breathe least that warmth shatter, least this strange unknown power floating around him disappear.

It was so familiar... for it had been there before him in that new vision. It was warmth and light and tenderness... a tiny, pulsing star of hope.

Lifting his gaze from where he had been staring blankly at the floor between his feet, those cursed hourglass pupils found Yurielle seated next to him. Her eyes were sad and wide, reflecting the light in the room around them in their dark blue depths.

Like stars shining in the void.

“Raistlin?”

A strangled sob echoed from the archmage and he pulled the woman into his arms, crushing her to him as they fell back onto the surface of the sofa.

Willingly Yurielle let Raistlin hold her against him. She could feel him trembling violently as he fought wave upon wave of emotions that she had no way to even begin to understand.

“Breathe Raistlin,” Yurielle was saying softly. “I'm here.”

The archmage buried his face in her hair and did his best to obey her. But he was well within the grip of his fears and doubts, of his sins and his regrets. He was swimming against the tide of what he was and Yurielle was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

And so, Yurielle held onto the archmage. His thin body shook with his sobs as he lay beneath her, crushing her to his chest as if he were afraid to let her go. Her eyes stung at seeing him hurting and Yurielle instinctively knew that whatever he was going through, this was not the first time. There was so much here that she didn't understand but she could tell that this sudden onslaught of emotions coming from Raistlin was the result of him ignoring them for so long.

These were emotions that had been long buried and seemingly forgotten and because of it, they were raw and left him in agony. There was such pain and sadness, such loneliness that Yurielle couldn't even fathom what the source of it all was. Quietly she reached a hand up and gently ran it along his jawline. The act seemed to soothe him slightly and so she repeated it slowly until his breathing was finally under control.

After many long minutes Raistlin opened his eyes and again was greeted with those indigo iris's looking up at him from where he held her against his chest. Her midnight eyes radiated warmth and light back at him, exactly like that tiny, beautiful star in his vision.

There was no pity in those eyes as he gazed at her. There was never any pity in Yurielle's eyes for Raistlin, for she never looked at him like any other person did. Her soft hands reached up to gently run her palms against his cheeks to wipe away the tears that he did not realize had been released.

“Don't be ashamed,” she said softly when she sensed that he was about to recoil at his perceived weakness. Giving him a tender smile Yurielle then nuzzled warmly against him, finding a comfortable position nestled in the crook of his arm. “I'm not going anywhere,” she soothed his unvoiced fears, her eyes still holding his. “If you think your skeletons were enough to scare me away, then you truly do not know me archmage,” she was saying as she softly ran her hand along his face as she gazed up at him.

Raistlin couldn't form words. He had no strength to even put back up his barriers and crawl back behind his usual stoic walls. The archmage was bare and raw before her in that moment and they both knew it. As if ashamed, Raistlin tore his eyes away from her and closed them tightly against that warm and reassuring look she was giving him. Even in his raw emotional state, Raistlin Majere had a hard time accepting her kindness.

But even as he struggled, Raistlin could feel Yurielle against him. She was so warm and comforting. Her body was pressed alongside of his so tightly in that small space on the sofa that he could feel every soft curve of her.

It felt so very, very right.

There was nothing sexual about the contact in this moment. It did not stir any feelings of lust or desire within the archmage like it had the other night when they had laid together.

Why was this so different?

All those answers he already knew came back to Raistlin and flooded him. It was because she was a kindred soul. He knew that she was his opposite, yet at the same time, she was seemingly made for him. And Raistlin needed her to just be beside him, more than anything else that may or may not ever happen between the two of them, Raistlin just needed her presence.

Then Raistlin suddenly knew, without a doubt, that he didn't know what he would do if she chose to leave him. Not in that moment or in any other! His existence was paramount to her being by his side. If she left, he would truly crumble to nothing.

As if hearing his inner thoughts, Yurielle gently ran her hand along his chest, soothing him and again reassuring him that this would not be so. Raistlin could feel her settle in against him and rest her head there over his heart. Her arms wrapped around him best they could in their position but it felt to Raistlin as if she was holding his shattered form together.

The warmth that had always been such a source of terror inside of the archmage slowly seeped into his being at her touch and all he could do in response was hold her tighter with his own arms. He allowed this new feeling to fill him and suffuse every cell of his being.

The warmth of her body next to his, the even rhythm of her breathing and the soft scent of her all surrounded him. He breathed her in again and savored the fact that she always smelled of spell components, the same as his own. Raistlin found that it was comforting in ways he had never acknowledged before. She was a mage, same as him. Only she knew what it was to suffer for the magic, only she understood the endless hours of study and discipline.

Only she could understand _him_.

Very slowly, the tendrils of panic released their hold on Raistlin Majere. He simply laid there on the soft surface of the couch inside of his study and allowed himself a moment of peace. One singular space in time where he let himself be comforted. Raistlin let himself find solace in the presence of one who had changed his world and he refused to let his mind think, for he knew as soon as he did, the dark thoughts would return.

His hate and loathing of himself would return.

As would the vast nothing within that felt as though it was gnawing away at his very soul.

“Thank you Yuri,” he whispered quietly, not really knowing that he was even speaking.

The fire crackled quietly in the nearby hearth as Yurielle began to hum softly to him in reply, instantly banishing any lingering pain. Her wordless melody filled the room and entered every crack that lay exposed around the Hourglass Mage.

Her voice was a magic that he needed right now. So calming was she to him that soon Raistlin felt sleep begin to steal moments of his awareness. Unable to fight the weariness, he let himself sink into unconsciousness.

There was a feeling that came to him in that moment right before sleep claimed him. It was a feeling - or a thought - that seemed to reach him from an unimaginable distance.

He was no longer alone. This time, he had the anchor that he needed.

His own existence would no longer be so empty.

Raistlin let go and the river of darkness rushed over him. But he knew that with her, he would never drown.

 

***

 

The two mages napped on the sofa together, waking periodically as the other shifted or started in their sleep. Each was troubled by their own thoughts and dreams. But upon waking and sensing the other, after a reassuring smile or light squeeze of arm around the other, they sank back into restful slumber.

Unaware of just how exhausted they both were from their ordeals, it was well after midday when they finally roused themselves from the comfortable and lazy stupor they shared. They said few words to one another, for both sensed that the other just needed the reassuring silence of their company.

Yurielle didn't press Raistlin for any reason of why she had found him in the state that she had. She hadn't even meant to come into his study when she had left the library earlier in the day. Instead she had meant to go lay down in her own bed to rest.

But she had heard Raistlin's strangled breaths through his open door from where she stood listening out on the landing. What she had found within his study had broken her heart. The most powerful mage in all of Krynn was trying to hold himself together in vain as he fell apart.

Yurielle knew right then and there that, no matter what happened next, Raistlin needed her.

Her Raistlin, the _real_ Raistlin.

This was the Raistlin that she had fallen in love with. And he was the one who was sitting alone in his study, sobbing to himself in agony. Without hesitation she went to him, for there was no other place she wanted to be but next to him.

Raistlin didn't say a word about it to Yurielle. At first he was humiliated that she had seen him like that. However that feeling quickly evaporated when the only thing he saw when he met her eyes was understanding and reassurance.

Grateful for her presence, the archmage didn't question anything about what he was feeling. He simply allowed himself to exist. For the comfort that she brought with her had eased the ache inside of him, had chased it all away. Calmness had settled in its place, one that Raistlin had not felt in years. If he had ever even felt it at all, for this felt as new to him as this warmth that was inside of him.

Though few words were said between them, both knew what they needed to do now. They both knew what answers they had to find.

They had an ancient archlich to destroy and the soul of a man to liberate.

Quietly Raistlin gathered as many spellbooks of Fistandantilus that he could bring to his desk and the two began the arduous search for answers on how to untangle the shadow from Raistlin's soul.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know that was some pretty heavy emotional stuff he just went through again. But I promise that is the last of the really angsty stuff! At least for now :p  
> Hope you enjoyed it. Thank you as always for reading! :)  
> Here is a link to the song that was part of the inspiration to Raistlin's feelings in this chapter  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kHicliUheO4


	37. Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay a couple of things:  
> First of all as you may have noticed I changed my username from PixieCat83 to SilverGlass83. I didn't think about how that may effect any alerts to anyone subscribed. So if it messed things up please let me know and I hope you find your way back to the story!  
> Second it's 4th of July here in the United States and that means fireworks. I honestly didn't plan this but when I saw it would line up this way I cackled in glee. There's going to be some fireworks in this chapter folks. So - NSFW warning!  
> Enjoy! *winks*

Hours of comfortable silence passed within Raistlin's study as Yurielle sat at one of the side tables in front of the fireplace, reading over the ancient tome before her. She was looking for something, _anything,_ which would give clues on how to break the lichs hold upon Raistlin Majere. Every tiny scrap of knowledge that she found, no matter how innocent or small it appeared, she wrote down in a small book at her side. The only sound in the room was her rhythmic scratching of her quill upon the pristine white paper of her new book or the occasional sound of a pop or hiss from the fire.

As the woman worked, Raistlin himself paced around the room, his steps becoming more heavy and more distracted as he roamed. His mind was not on the task at hand, but rather, his thoughts solely filled with the woman who sat in his study with him. His anchor, his one solace, Yurielle was like a fire that had caught in his blood.

Over and over in his mind, Raistlin thought about the few weeks that they had known one another. He played every interaction again and again through his memory, filtering them each down and dissecting them. But one instance stood out in his mind, one single moment that he needed to understand because still, to this day, it left him baffled. The archmage needed to know the answer to a question that was burning through him this night as he stared at Yurielle while she worked.

“Yurielle?” the archmage asked quietly, his eyes were downcast as he slowly paced back and forth in front of the fireplace.

“Hmmm?” she hummed as she was absorbed in the book in front of her.

But the sound was like a musical note, strengthening Raistlin's resolve. “That first night when you came here and I cast my warding spell on you... when you cried out...” his eyes snapped up to look at her. “Do you remember?”

Yurielle looked up from her note taking. Meeting his intense gaze, she offered a tiny nod.

“What did you feel in that moment?” he asked earnestly. “I've always been curious... What made you cry out? Will you tell me?”

A bright flush spread up Yurielle's neck and across her cheeks. Swallowing hard, she tried to tear her eyes from his but it was if he held her with his will. “Only if you tell me what you saw on my forehead after you pressed your lips there. Tell me why you acted the way you did,” her voice was quiet and small in the vast room.

“I asked first,” he said stubbornly.

“Oh we're playing that game now?” she tried to tease but her fluttering heart wouldn't even allow that and the joke sounded flat to her own ears. Her heart had done nothing but scream at her all day. It was becoming painful the longer she ignored it and his gaze was causing it to do all kinds of skips and jumps inside of her chest.

It had been hours since they had laid together on the sofa, safe and warm in their napping. But Yurielle found that she missed Raistlin's warmth, missed his scent and his magic. She wanted him next to her and couldn't fathom why he seemed so preoccupied and restless all of a sudden. Now that he had interrupted her work, all these feelings swelled within her.

Finally tearing her eyes from his, Yurielle nervously stared at the raven feather quill in her hand. It was soft as velvet, so many colors and yet none in its blackness. Just like his robes she had clung to, pressed herself against on that night in question. Like she just had this day... She was forced to put the quill down when her hands began to tremble at the memory.

“Was it painful?” he asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

She gave a slight chuckle to compliment the smile of embarrassment that slowly spread across her flushed face. “No Raistlin,” she said softly. “There was no pain... just you. There was only your essence and your magic flowing through me.”

“If not pain, then what Yurielle? You sounded almost as if you...” Raistlin hesitated, unsure. “It _sounded_ like pain... but not...”

Taking a slow breath Yurielle knew the heat on her face had surely already given her away but she whispered, “Not pain Raistlin. Ecstasy.” She closed her eyes tight, too shamefaced to look at him. “You gave me.... ecstasy.”

She heard his breath catch but through the blood rushing in her ears she didn't hear the whisper-soft rustle of his robes as he closed the space between them. Suddenly his long fingers were on her chin.

“Truly?” he murmured, tilting her face up to his but she still held her eyes tightly closed. “The sound you made...! You said my name. Did you know that? ”

Her skin had flared its reddish shade yet and the archmage was mesmerized by the colors he saw. Raistlin hadn't seen a maiden blush for much of his adult life, and it was always enchanting to his eyes to watch Yurielle when she was embarrassed by something.

The spell she held him under continued while he watched how she reacted to his touch on her heated skin. Captivated, Raistlin ran his long fingers down the side of her face causing her breath to hitch in her throat as his warm fingers gently traced patterns on her jaw.

Yurielle tilted back her head as his fingers ran along her neck, allowing him to touch her, giving him permission to explore. Raistlin could feel and see her pulse race under her skin. The tiniest moan escaped her slightly parts lips as fingernails ran along her collarbone, playing with the skin above the edge of her robe.

The sound she made washed over him. “Look at me Yurielle,” he commanded.

She obeyed and her eyes opened to lock with his. Those indigo orbs were bright and dilated and instantly trapped him within their power. Her hand found the edge of his own robes, grasping the velvet; Yurielle pulled him down to her level. Raistlin sank to his knees before her, unable to stop himself. His hands dropped and rested lightly on her knees between them.

They were eye to eye now, both had a look of uncertainty on their faces but they refused to release one another. They both could feel it, this invisible wall between them that hummed with want, it was ready to crumble.

No, the crumbling had already begun.

Yurielle tentatively reached her own hand out and touched his face as he had done hers, gently caressing the golden skin along his jaw. Running fingertips over the metallic flesh to his lips she whispered, “Yes Raistlin....”

He watched as somehow her skin flared hotter as her eyes fixated on his mouth.

“Your lips on my skin; woven with your magic. It was... _igniting_!” she whispered. “I've never felt anything like it and I find myself wanting to know...” she paused shyly, chewing on her bottom lip as her eyes met his again.

“To know...?” he breathed against her fingers, urging her on.

“What else your lips can do to me.”

Raistlin sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, his body tensed as he felt need and desire coil inside of him at her declaration.

Always had he squashed those emotions, always he was able to master them around her. But in this moment, Yurielle made him not even want to try. There was heat and tension between them. The air thrummed with it like electricity at her confession.

It was unbearable!

Every touch, every kiss, every vivid pleasure dream, all of it was nothing to what arced between them right now.

“What did you see Raistlin?” her voice was soft, alluring and heavy with her own thoughts. “What did those eyes of yours see and what do they see now? Is a corpse worth such a reaction from you? You had the look of a man who had lost everything that night.” Her eyes searched his as she spoke, her hands still on his face, forcing him to look nowhere else but her. “Was my dead face worth that much to you in your dark world that night?”

His breath quickened against her fingers. He had to tell her, for Raistlin would no longer live within a lie. “A corpse no, one is much the same as another in my eyes now. But you Yurielle...” he leaned into her, drawn closer by the gravity of her. To his elation she parted her knees to let him nearer. Lightly he ran his hands from her knees up her thighs to gently take hold of each side of her hips. Yurielle sighed at the light caress and he watched her eyes drink him in, felt her soft hands on his face, cradling him just as she had held him together earlier.

“I see you Yurielle... I've said it before but you failed to understand.” He leaned in closer, enveloping her in that warmth and scent that she had become addicted to. His face was mere inches from hers.

“I. SEE. YOU,” he punctuated each word, letting them sink in one at a time. “You and you alone are beautiful to me!” Raistlin's hands shot up impossibly fast and grabbed Yurielle's wrists as she instinctively tried to pull away, her eyes wide in her shock.

“You mean..?” she exclaimed, her voice was high and thin. Never in a million years did she suspect that he could see her! “Your eyes... you...?! ME? All this time?!” Yurielle stammered. Her heart was racing painfully with this new knowledge. She knew what it meant, for she had felt the golden thread around his eyes for herself and had guessed at its meaning

But _HER_?!

“YES!” Raistlin breathed, grasping her wrists firmly but not painfully. “You're the only one I see...” he pulled her forward off the chair so that she slid down and knelt on the floor with him. The folds of their robes pooled between them and around them, midnight blue and black. They were surrounded by a sea of velvet, their bodies barely an inch apart as Raistlin held her trembling arms between them.

“I see your face, your skin. I can see you blush... You are the only color in my world Yurielle! But that night, my spell left a mark on you and your skin there withered...” he reached a hand up and traced the line across her brow and closed his eyes at the memory.

“My curse was claiming you as it does everyone else and I could not bear to see you like that... Not my beautiful star in the darkness. Not Yurielle,” he opened his eyes to find hers searching his face.

“ _My_ Yurielle,” he declared softly.

A sound like a sob escaped Yurielle's open lips but Raistlin cut it short with his own over them. Crushing the pink flesh with gold he devoured her mouth like a man starving.

They had kissed before of course, but those were small, scared little things compared to this. There was no more fear or hesitation in this kiss. This kiss was stepping into the flames and Yurielle's own reaction to it sent all reason from Raistlin's brain as she returned the kiss with equal fire.

Equal passion. Equal desire.

Raistlin released Yurielle's arms in favor of holding onto her. One hand held her face while the other arm wrapped around her slender waist, pulling her body to his where he needed her while their mouths danced with one another almost violent in their passion. Raistlin gasped as her tongue slid along his mouth, tasting him, coaxing his own to come and play.

He happily obliged, eagerly allowing her inside.

Yurielle wove her tongue inside of Raistlin's mouth, setting his blood on fire. In the back of his mind he needed to remember and thank Dalamar for teaching her this elven art. It was impossibly sensual and Raistlin could barely breathe and comprehend anything besides her mouth on his, her tongue dancing along his own.

The taste of her, the smell of her skin, the sounds she made against his mouth, the feel of her softness against his body, every sense of his was overloaded with HER.

Yurielle's own hands had not been idle, for the archmage could feel them running along his chest, searching for the hooks that would undo his robes. Raistlin felt a few of the fastens give away and the front of the garment came open.

Panic suddenly seized him, halting his kiss.

He wanted this. Desperately so! But for all his power and magic, he had no idea what he was doing. Instinct alone seemed not enough and he was suddenly frozen with the unknown path before him. Yurielle seemed to want him as he wanted her, but would she still after seeing this shattered body of his?

“What's wrong?” she breathed the words before going to kiss his neck. Her soft mouth ran along his jaw causing him to shudder in pleasure even as he all but pushed her away from him.

“I...” he began huskily. He then growled in irritation at his own weakness. “I've never...”

Understanding touched her eyes but the heat remained. “I haven't either Raistlin. But... we'll learn together.”

He turned his face away from her. Maybe not looking at her would make him feel less shame. “You expect me to believe that?” Raistlin hissed without thinking. His voice was far harsher than he meant it to be. The archmage heard her injured intake of breath.

“You think I'm _lying_ to you?!” she exclaimed.

Remaining silent, Raistlin focused on cooling his blood by grasping that hurt he heard in her voice and use it to fight the ache for her in his body.

This sickly, weak, disgusting body of his... how could he ever think she'd want _this_?

“Why would I lie to you about that?” Yurielle asked, her voice trembled slightly.

“I don't...”

Raistlin wasn't prepared for her to shove him, knocking him over and sprawling him to the floor.

“Dammit Raistlin you black-hearted bastard! You're doing this to me NOW? After all we've been through?!” came Yurielle's wounded words. “Why do you keep on doing this! Why do you insist on pushing me away?!”

Rolling onto his back Raistlin propped himself up on his elbows, but before he could sit up she was suddenly there straddling him and pinning him down with surprising strength born out of hurt and anger.

“You look me in the eye when you reject me!” Yurielle shouted, her voice caught and Raistlin suddenly realized that she was crying.

Yurielle began to shake him, her fists bunching the front of his robes. “If you honestly don't want me then SAY it! I'm not yours to play with Majere!”

Stunned by this reaction Raistlin tried to reach up and brush the glittering tears away. “Yurielle...” he tried to soothe but she slapped his hand away and moved out of his reach, getting up quickly in flurry of dark blue robes.

“No!” she exclaimed, rubbing her eyes with her hands in that nervous twitchy way of hers. “This always happens. ALL of you are the same! You get close enough to hurt me then toss me aside! I can't take it anymore!” She went towards the door. “I've changed my mind... I _am_ leaving!”

Raistlin flicked a finger and they both heard an audible click as he locked the door seconds before she could reach it. Runes flashed on the surface of the wood in front of her eyes.

“No you're not,” he said as he gathered himself up off the floor.

Yurielle whirled on him, her unbound hair flying around her face. “You unlock that. NOW!” she shrieked.

“NO!” he growled back, now on his feet and slowly walking towards her, his hands out at his sides in a placating manner.

“You know I can bring this place down around the both of us,” she narrowed her eyes, tears still streamed from them. “I’ll dispel every damned curse holding this rotting Tower up! Your wards CAN'T stop me!”

“You won't,” he said calmly.

“You don't know that...” she stated lowly. “You don't know me Raistlin Majere! You don't know the lengths _I'll_ go to!”

The warning the archmage heard in her voice made him pause.

Taking advantage of his hesitation, Yurielle turned and grasped the door handle and gave it a hard tug. It was locked fast. Gold sparks of his magic hovered before her eyes like fireflies that danced in and out of the wood before her.

“Yes I do,” his silky voice replied from behind her. “You promised you wouldn't undo the magic in this Tower and I believe you,” Raistlin said, inching a bit more towards her. His footsteps were slow and even, like a black shadow stalking her.

“Oh so _you_ get to pick and choose what you believe about me, is that it Raistlin?” Yurielle snarled and then spoke an unlock spell to release the door. It didn't work so she kicked the heavy wood, bruising a toe.

Raistlin watched her panic, knowing she'd try something desperate and he feared that she would use her voice next. “Yurielle,” he called soothingly. “Calm yourself. Let's talk about this. I didn't mean-”

“Talk!?” she screeched. “All you want is talk and kissing and magic!” Turning she found that he was only a few feet away, hands reaching out to her. “I'm just some silly thing you like staring at aren't I? You've lied to me this whole time because you can't let go of your sick need to have power over people!”

Raistlin paused as she raged, her words reflecting back to him his actions in her own eyes.

“Just stare at weird Yurielle with her weird magic! Just like EVERYONE else! But never tell her, never be honest with her! OH NO!” she laughed bitterly through her tears. “That would be too much work for the likes of you archmage. So instead you just push me away and deny us both any shred of what we could be together!” her voice caught, her chest was heaving with unreleased sobs. “You never want me to be anything else with you because you're too scared to actually care for me or let me into this empty wasteland that you call a life!”

Her words bit deep and Raistlin visibly flinched. Again he found that she had flayed him open with her honesty. “Yurielle...” he said gently, that soft voice caressing her name in that way that always sent shivers down her spine.

“No!” she sobbed brokenly. “I'm tired of it. Tired of feeling like this! Tired of being used by everyone because I'm different! Gods be damned I don't care what they want from me anymore! I can't bring balance and I can't help you!”

Yurielle raised her hands up at him; her eyes were hard and full of pain. “You DON'T know what I'm willing to do to make you understand Raistlin. If you don't want me then fine. I'm not supposed to exist anyway!” Lightning sparked in her palm. “Stay lost within your darkness Raistlin!”

“You know spells won't hurt me,” he reminded smoothly, inching ever closer, he could almost touch her now.

“I know,” her bottom lip trembled. “But you're good at amplifying them back at me!”

Raistlin barely had time to register what she intended as she began to whisper the few words to summon the magic. His eyes widened. “Yuri NO!” he lunged for her in that heartbeat before she could complete the incantation.

The archmage flung Yurielle up against the heavy door, pinning her there with his body, his arms holding hers up above their heads. “Stop it!” he commanded harshly, slamming her wrist against the wood hard enough to make her cry out. Yurielle's shoulder throbbed at the sudden movement to an angle that it was not yet comfortable with after her injury.

Raistlin felt a stab of guilt for doing this for he knew her shoulder would ache. He knew that he was being rough with her. But thankfully the magic that she had begun to gather in her palms had evaporated.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, horrified. “That bolt would have killed you after deflecting off me....”

Yurielle sobbed and Raistlin could tell that she was trying desperately to hold onto her anger but it was slipping from her grasp. Turning her head away from him she hid behind a cascade of hair, unable and unwilling to meet his gaze.

He stared at her aghast, ice flowing in his veins at the magnitude of what she had nearly done. Her reckless nature never ceased to surprise him. She had been right. Raistlin didn't know the lengths that she was willing to go to. But this... this was far more than her usual recklessness; this was the action of a broken heart.

And he had been the cause of it.

“I'm sorry that I didn't believe you....” he said. “But I'm NOT rejecting you!” Raistlin stated as his breath played in that curtain of her hair. “Even if I would ever reject you... I'm not worth you _dying_ over!” He stared at her in horror. “Yurielle please never over-react like that again! _Never_ harm yourself because of me do you hear me?!” the words came out loudly in his anger.

Silence fell heavily around them then, only to be broken a heartbeat later by Yurielle as she began to cry in earnest. Raistlin's anger cooled as the sound tore through him and he felt her body tremble in agony against his.

“What good am I?” her broken voice floated around him. “I can't do what they asked of me! I'm not strong enough to save you Raistlin... I'm just not... I've been trying but...”

“Save me?” he asked, not understanding what she was saying.

“My Test...” her voice cracked. “The Gods not only asked me to balance the magics but also to stand beside you in hopes that... that you would perhaps choose a better path.” Tears streamed down her face now, making her hair cling to her cheeks. Still she refused to look at him. “I don't know what I'm supposed to do and the longer I've been with you... the more I've...” she sobbed again, her sorrow vibrating from her body into his. “I can't stop these feelings inside of me Raistlin... but you don't want me.”

Raistlin barely heard the last sentence through the pounding in his ears.

“Yurielle... You've succeeded,” Raistlin rasped. “Don't you see what you've done to me?! How you've _changed_ me? Yuri...” He tried to coax her to look at him but she refused. When he spoke again his voice was soft and quiet. “I can no longer hide from your light. Don't you see?”

Her body was trembling almost violently now with her crying and Raistlin slowly released her wrists, letting his hands run heavily along her arms and down her sides, fully feeling her curves beneath her robes with his warm hands. The touch brought forth a shivered moan from her mouth still hidden behind her curtain of hair. Now that he had released her hands, Yurielle quickly covered her face with them to better hide from him.

“I _do_ want you!” Raistlin leaned into her, pressing his body against hers. “But I've never known the touch of a woman,” his words were low and harsh, bitter with lifelong resentment. “This... this is all so new to me. I have no knowledge of how to please you or what to even do. I don't like that, not knowing. It makes me feel weak,” he confessed quietly.

“You can't know everything Raistlin,” Yurielle's voice wavered from behind her hands. “There's nothing weak about not knowing something. That's what it is to be human.” She sniffled quietly.

“I'm trying Yurielle,” he confessed. “This is part of what you've done to me. Without you, I would have never come to feel these things that I do when I'm around you.”

“Emotions Raistlin,” she said softly and attempted to wipe her face with the back of her hand. “They're not _things_... They're called emotions.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “And a great many of them you've awoken inside of me because of your silliness and your weirdness. I thought my ability to feel emotions was long dead, buried beneath what I've made myself to be. But in your light I see only the lies that I've told myself and here I now stand, at your mercy Yurielle. I want you...” his voice dropped lower, his hands resting on her hips, long fingers grasping her to pull her even closer.

Leaning his head into hers he whispered, “I don't understand how you can be so beautiful and yet untouched. I feel unworthy to be the first to touch you,” he confessed, his own voice breaking. “I lack the body for one such as you! Yet you seem insistent that you want this thing that I am, this hollow man the gods asked you to walk beside. I'll end up being the fool because I fear cannot give you everything that you want, everything that you _deserve,_ it... scares me.”

“ _Unworthy_?” the word seemed like it was sucked from her lungs. “ _Lacking?_ Raistlin...” she shook her head, it was the tiniest movement as she now rested her hands on his thin shoulders. “I don't see how that’s possible. You are a man are you not?”

He nodded, his own head still against hers for neither one would move to face the other. “I am, but...” he hesitated a moment. When he continued his voice was bitter, “My twin got the body Yurielle. All I have is this wretched shell of one.”

“You're an idiot...” she whispered but it was spoken with affection as she nuzzled her head into his. “You think me that vain? Is this why you push me away? Not because of the emotions that scare you... but the fact that you think you won't be able to _satisfy_ me?”

“I panicked,” he confessed, pressing his face against hers, returning the tender action that she showed him. It felt so good to give her affection. “I am sorry...” Raistlin continued quietly, his breath dancing on her tear damp cheeks. “I didn't mean to hurt you. I said that I never would, but somehow I keep doing it.”

He sighed then, it was a sad, frustrated sound directed only at him. “I fear going farther with you because, you are right, I do not let people in. Emotions... yes those scare me but not only that, there's also you. You _terrify_ me Yurielle! Everything that you are, I just can't understand why you are even here with me.”

Raistlin took a slow, shuddering breath before whispering, “I do not deserve you. That is the simple truth of it. Yet I cannot be without you. What am I supposed to do?”

Yurielle turned to him now, the action causing him to pull his face away from hers.

They locked eyes. Hers were wide as they finally looked at one another. She slowly shook her head at him, at his confessions, at his line of thinking. “You're a mess Raistlin Majere,” Yurielle said quietly, her voice still thick with tears.

“Only figuring that out now?” he scoffed. But for once he did not draw away.

She was too warm, too real, too... beautiful. Her tear streaked cheeks glistened at him in the firelight. Her warm red hair clung to her skin and Raistlin carefully raised a hand to gently brush the strands away.

“No Raistlin, I've always seen it,” she was saying as he couldn't stop himself from drying her tears with his fingertips. “You don't hide these things as well as you think you do Raistlin,” she said quietly.

“I know that you are uncomfortable around me. I know that I make you feel things you don't want to face...” Yurielle sighed at his touch. His fingertips slowly ran down the side of her face to the corner of her lips. “I know you think that you don't deserve me and that you think being alone and closed off makes you stronger. But you're wrong Raistlin....”

His hand dropped away and she saw his protest form in his eyes as they once again focused on hers.

Yurielle leaned towards Raistlin while simultaneously pulling him down to her in order in to press her forehead on his. Before he could say anything or react to her, Yurielle's slender hands went from his shoulders up his neck to hold either side of his head below his ears, cradling him warmly.

“You're the only one to see me Raistlin and I don't mean your cursed eyes. Only you see the weirdness within me, the wild magic trying to exist with the arcane, this bizarre thing that I am and still think that I'm beautiful. Everyone else is repulsed by me... scared about what my magic means,” her voice caught, “but not you!

“You care for me just as I care about you and that is what terrifies you!” she continued on, not allowing him to argue or pull back from her. Their eyes were locked on one another, held fast as the wall between them crumbled.

“Every time you let yourself open up you lash back out to drive me away because you don't know how to accept my feelings for you. But you come back to me, over and over. My heart can't endure much more! Either you let me in or I find my own path.”

One of her hands left his neck and again her fingers traced his lips. “Either you truly want me or you don't. Either you let me in or I leave. I won't accept half of you Raistlin Majere. I'm all or nothing!”

Raistlin closed his eyes; a harsh sound escaped his throat as he squeezed the golden orbs shut. He was such a fool to think that she didn't see all of his fears and doubts. This beautiful creature before him, the one his eyes had fought against an ancient curse for, it was only fitting that she saw him back.

“Don't run from me my kindred soul. Please I... I need you,” her voice was but a whisper. “You called me your star in the darkness...”

Raistlin opened his eyes again, lingering on her face as tears again slid down her cheeks.

“That's how I've always felt. I'm just a lone star trying so hard to light the night. It's what the gods asked of me... to light the way. But I never thought anyone saw. No one's ever seen me! I'm so... _alone!_ ” That last word was sadness incarnate.

“Not alone,” he soothed. Tilting his head down Raistlin finally met her mouth again. This time gently, longingly his lips played with hers. He tasted tears and sadness, her whimpering sobs thrumming cords deep inside of him, mirroring a pain that he had long tried to bury within his soul. But now it was suddenly there again, rearing up in response to her own pain and loneliness.

This empty void within him that she had somehow touched with her light echoed painfully with how hollow he had let himself become. But now, Yurielle was inside of him, shining that light into every dark corner of his being, forcing him to see _everything_ he had tried for so long to ignore _._ His lies, his fears, his shame, it all was bear and exposed to her.

The emotions that flooded him in this moment were overwhelming and terrifying. But Raistlin knew that Yurielle was the only thing keeping him from devouring himself. Helpless and lost, this woman was his only anchor in this new sea of emotions.

Raistlin pressed deeper into her body with his, pinning her flat against the door behind her as he also deepened his wanting kiss. Their bodies melded as he pressed and Raistlin felt her wrap one of those long legs around his thighs.

Yurielle's hands were on his neck and in his hair, pulling and caressing as their kisses grew more heated. Grabbing her leg under the crook of her knee Raistlin hitched it up higher, his hand found her bare skin under the robes. She gasped against his lips as he trailed his hand firmly up her leg.

“Is this what you want then Yurielle?” Raistlin asked quietly against her mouth. “This dark, broken man that I am?”

“Yes!” Yurielle uttered as his warm hand trailed up her thigh, setting her skin aflame. “Yes this! More of this, more of you!” she wove her fingers into his hair and pulled him to her mouth. “I'm yours archmage... do what you want with me!”

Black gods he wanted her, and everything else be damned, weak and frail body included, he would have her!

“Mine,” Raistlin declared against her lips, pressing her body harder into the door with his, the hardness of him rubbed against her, earning him a soft moan against his mouth. Desire flamed through his body at the sound. The ache started in his chest then spread lower, turning into heat and raw need the lower it went.

“Then teach me Yurielle...” he pleaded, pulling away and meeting her eyes. “Teach me to touch you. Be _my_ Shalafi in this!” he commanded before hungrily finding her neck with his mouth. He bit the flesh there softly as his hand inched up her leg, higher up her thigh. He felt the edge of her linen shift and kept going. Pushing the fabric up, he ran his long fingers over her naked bottom.

Yurielle moaned and arched against him, panting heavily. “Yes...” she crooned and encouraged him onward as those hot fingers traced her skin in delicious patterns as if he were tracing magical runes on her flesh. Raistlin could feel the word vibrate in her throat under his eager mouth as he gently sucked at the pulsing point where her heartbeat thrumming against the soft skin.

“Yes... yes..!” she continued to moan from the combined sensation of his mouth and tracing fingers against her skin. “Raistlin YES!” she couldn't stop herself from crying out and her body slammed against his when those long delicate fingers finally found the slick spot between her thighs.

Raistlin sucked in a breath, shocked by how slippery she felt against his searching fingers. “Gods Yuri...!” he moaned as he touched her folds, exploring and feeling her with his hand. He could only marvel at the way she began to respond to his fingers, for it was as if her whole body vibrated against him, aching for him to continue, to do MORE.

After a moment Yurielle went to pull his hand to the front of herself between her legs in order to guide him to a better angle. Knowing what she wanted, Raistlin pushed the fabric of her robes up to her hips, exposing those long legs to the air. As he did, their eyes locked, both of them were flushed, their eyes wide with excitement.

Once her legs were free, Yurielle grabbed his hand again couldn't help but moan loudly as Raistlin touched her. He rested his head against her neck, focusing on how she led him; how she showed him to touch her in the way that she touched herself. Raistlin's eager mind locking in every way she moved, every spot she shared with him, in order to learn her rhythm. The archmage drank in the knowledge as if he was learning a new spell.

“I'm falling... so hot... to many damn clothes!” she panted the words out while writhing in his hands. “Go to the sofa... or bed... I don't care!”

“Sofa closer,” Raistlin stated as he brought his hand away.

Yurielle's leg buckled at his sudden departure but Raistlin managed to catch her as together they staggered back to the middle of the room. Their mouths found one another again, ravenous in their need as they kissed and groaned against one another. Stumbling along, they made their way towards the large sofa that awaited them. Vaguely Raistlin was aware that she had undone his belt from his waist, the weight of his spell components made a small thud as they landed on the floor.

Before Raistlin could register the fact that half his robe was already open, Yurielle's hands had left his chest and were now tearing at her own robe. In her haste she ripped a ribbon off in her hand. “Dammit,” she grumbled for the knot still held her robe closed.

Raistlin's nimble fingers tore the front of the robe open; ripping the remaining fastens, having no patience for her to mess with the broken string. “I'll owe you a new one,” he growled against her neck now as he steered her to their destination. His hands pulled the edge of her shift up over her hips. Those fingers leaving trails of tingling heat along her flesh wherever he touched.

“Buy it cheap,” Yurielle said as she struggled out of the arm holes of her robe as she went with him, willingly following where he led her. “Thin fabric tears easier!”

“Hmmm,” he hummed into her skin. “I'll remember that. But I think I can get you out of your clothes easier than reducing them to shreds every time...” he murmured along her neck before biting and sucking her ear gently, causing her to whimper with pleasure. “But, whatever you desire fair Yurielle. I am yours to teach,” he said as they reached the carpeted seating area, “and I'm eager to learn.”

Raistlin had her shift lifted up nearly to her ribs, wanting nothing more than to have her free of her clothes and was all but pushing her towards the sofa. Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment, they both forgot about watching where they were going and, tripping over the footrest, they completely missed their destination and tumbled onto the floor together.

Yurielle dove at him again, finding Raistlin's mouth and silencing his chuckle as they landed in a heap of arms and legs like two drunkards. The archmage let out a moan of his own as that tongue of hers shattered his thoughts as she made eager love to his mouth.

“Robe off! NOW!” Yurielle commanded, pulling away from the fiery kiss as she fell back and began to yank at her boots.

Raistlin lay there for a moment, dizzy and stunned by how her tongue had nearly destroyed his every coherent thought and almost sent him over the edge. “You and that bossy mouth...” he rumbled deep in his chest as he sat up.

His eyes widened as he watched her struggle with her boots, wearing only that short cut shift that he had pushed up to her waist, he caught glimpses of that tender wet spot peeking out between her legs as she moved frantically and ungracefully to be rid of the stubborn footwear. The sight would be almost hilarious if it wasn't such an enormous turn on.

The sudden realization that she wasn't wearing any underclothes made his loins ache and burn painfully. “Do you... make a habit of not wearing your small clothes?” he asked, full of hunger as he watched the scene before him.

Yurielle flashed him a feral look. “Tear my clothes off more often and maybe you'll find out archmage!”

Raistlin groaned in near agony as he quickly had his own boots off as well as his robe, faster than he had ever undressed in his life and flung them away just as Yurielle got the second boot off her slender leg. Diving at her, his hand went back to where he had left off while pinning her body beneath his. Raistlin was determined to return the favor of her tongue in his mouth, as well needing time to give his body a moment to calm down. If such a thing were even possible!

Her cry of surprise turned into needy gasps as he crushed her down onto the carpet to squirm under him. Yurielle's vision went blurry as Raistlin touched her. His long slender fingers played with her wet lips, gently stroking up and down, varying the pressure in the way that she had showed him. He lingered and teased the sensitive bundle of nerves at her apex, making her awareness narrow to that one singular point. Pressing down on her with the palm of his hand earned him a loud cry of pleasure as simultaneously his fingers worked deeper towards the center of the inferno that was building inside of her.

“Gods Raistlin!” Yurielle exclaimed breathlessly, her mind going blank as his fingers found her opening and slowly slid into her.

Raistlin gasped, shocked at the tightness of her as his fingertips entered her walls. His wide, golden eyes met hers through the curtain of his hair. “You _are_ untouched....”

She moaned, body arching eagerly against his hand. “I'd never lie to you!” she barely managed to say as she guided him with her hand over his once more. “Gods!” she cried again as he added another finger and pressed farther, sliding back and forth inside her, his thumb still playing with her folds.

There was so much sensation that Yurielle's mind was floating in a space filled only with pleasure. She was so close, every nerve and muscle was ready to snap loose from the pressure within her as she neared. Letting Raistlin set a rhythm, Yurielle's hands went to her touch her breasts over the thin fabric of her shift, her back arching and hips rocked, eager for him to increase his tempo.

Raistlin watched her from where he lay along her body. His right hand touching her between those long legs, his left hand cupped under the base of her head, fingers tangled in her hair. Those golden eyes couldn't help but take in the scene of her face. She was close he knew for he could feel the coil of her around his fingers ready to explode and heard it in her shuddering gasps that she could not contain. He watched her hands touch her breasts, fascinated by how unashamed she was as she heightened her own sensations with her hands on her body. Those dark eyes of hers began to roll back as she urged him onto a faster pace, whimpering hotly as she all but begged him for release.

But right now all Raistlin could think of where those soft mounds under her hands. Somehow, in all the tumbling and kissing up until now, he had forgotten about those supple breasts of hers. How in the world could he have forgotten about those?!

They still lay hidden from his sight, those beautiful soft curves that he wanted desperately to touch. He eyed the fabric of the shift that was something she commonly wore beneath her robes, it must be the same one that she had worn on the day she escaped Wayreth, for it looked aged and thin. He could see the darker circles of her nipples beneath the fabric, calling to him like two irresistible sirens.

An idea came to him then, if she wanted all her clothes destroyed then who was he to deny her?

With a decidedly evil smirk Raistlin reveled in her cry of dismay as his fingers suddenly left her again.

“Raist-LIN!” Yurielle yelled in disappointment. The sensations within her had built to the near breaking and now suddenly everything halted. She glared up at him, her eyes bright and lips pouting even though she was scowling fiercely at him.

He gave her a smug look, clearly enjoying this new found power over her.

“That's unacceptable archmage! You get that hand back down there!” she demanded, frustrated beyond belief with him. She couldn't believe that he would just stop!

“You are the bossiest creature that I have ever met!” he leered hungrily. “You presume to tell me what to do?” Those golden eyes glinted dangerously with desire. “Me? The most powerful mage of our time?” Raistlin teased her. Sitting up beside her now he groped at her thighs with both hands, working and touching her skin everywhere but the spot that she wanted. Something inside of him was enjoying making her writhe and wait as he pulled her back from the edge.

“You. ARE. EVIL!” she cried with a breathy laugh as his fingers trailed along her thighs and hips, so close yet achingly so far. Her skin flamed red as she watched his eyes devour her, they had left her face and were intent on what his hands were doing, taking in the full view of where he was touching.

“ _I'm_ the teacher remember?!” Yurielle reminded hotly. “Stop teasing me and get those fingers back... AH!” her complaints soon turned into a gasp as suddenly, with a flick of his wrist, the concealed dagger on Raistlin's forearm was in his hand.

“Don't move,” he warned, that metallic smirk shining at her. “Does my Shalafi still want me to tear her clothes off?”

Yurielle froze. Not in terror, but in fascination as he held her in his predatory gaze. Her eyes went wide with the realization of what he intended and she gave a small nod of her head. Her heart hammered in her ears at knowing she was completely at his mercy.

But she trusted him.

With one good slash in the thin fabric at the edge of her shift, Raistlin then flung the dagger away where it clattered across the floor to stop somewhere under his desk. Quickly the sheath joined it and Yurielle could have almost laughed at watching Raistlin as he all but bit at the leather fastens in his haste to release it from his forearm. It would have been hilarious if it wasn't such an enormous turn on.

“You owe me a new shift now!” she scolded, breathless as she collapsed back against the rug when he loomed over her again.

“Make me a list,” he smirked.

“You could have just asked nicely!” she tried to say but those pouting lips only made Raistlin all the more eager to get her naked. His hands suddenly pulled at the cut that he had started in the thin, cotton fabric, tearing sounds filled the room as he destroyed it.

Yurielle's mind was whirling between this pleasure mixed with sultry roughness.

“Where is the fun in that?” he grinned, his eyes now again locked on hers as he annihilated the final layer between them. Few more forceful tugs and he pulled it off of her, freeing her.

Finally naked under him, Raistlin slowly let his eyes roam Yurielle's body and took a moment to savor the sight of her. Her supple figure lay splayed before him; her soft skin glowed in the warm firelight, flush and eager. Her hair was fanned out behind her head, like a halo of warm red and gold fire.

Yurielle stared up at him, indigo eyes full of desire as she chewed on her bottom lip. Squeezing her thighs tightly together, she tried to ease the burning that he had started between them as she could almost feel his eyes devour her.

Raistlin let her writhe on the floor under him. Intensely he watched as her hands twitched and begin to move to touch herself when he made no move to do so himself. It was the most wondrous sight he had ever thought possible.

“I don't think so sweet Yuri,” he quickly snatched her hands in his from where they had been running seductively down along her sides to her hips. “Although, to watch you please yourself would be most enjoyable. I think, right now, I'd like to do the honors.”

“Then stop staring!” she demanded, exasperated with his stalling.

Raistlin couldn't help but chuckle again. “You're so exquisite,” he declared. His strange hourglass pupils blew wide as he watched her part her legs ever so slightly, inviting him to continue.

Yurielle's blush deepened at the action, spreading across her breasts and up her neck. The sight of her offering herself so openly to him only served to harden him further.

“Please Raistlin,” she said softly with such longing that he nearly gave in and dove on her at that second and he had to take a slow breath to master himself once more.

Finally he met her eyes; they were watching him tentatively as her body trembled with her need. He crawled down over her so that his face was just inches above hers. “Shall we see now what else my lips can do to you Shalafi?” he asked as he ran his mouth lightly along her jawline.

“Gods yes! Ignite me!” Yurielle moaned as those soft lips trailed down along her neck, their heat setting fire to every nerve.

The archmage nibbled gently with his teeth and his tongue slithered along the soft flesh on her neck and along her collarbones. He gently kissed the scar over her right shoulder where the poisoned bolt had nearly taken her from him.

Slowly Raistlin went lower, his hand softly cupping her one breast while his mouth went to the other. They were softer and warmer than he could ever have dreamed and he was eager to explore them fully. He moaned quietly as he felt and tasted those firm, supple mounds.

In Raistlin's ears, Yurielle made the most amazing sounds as his lips played on her sensitive skin. Taking each breast, one by one, into his mouth, the archmage made sure to lavish both with all the attention they deserved. Sucking gently, his tongue and hands worked the rosy nipples into hard buzzing points of sensation.

“Raistlin please!” Yurielle cried, her fingers tangled in his long hair as she endeavored to push him lower, pleading with him to end the torture.

Raistlin couldn't help but chuckle, the sound vibrating through her chest. “I want to savor you Yurielle,” he whispered against her damp skin, making the flesh prickle. “Draw it out as long as possible. What's the hurry?”

Her only reply was a sharp intake of breath that ended in a strangled moan. One brought on by both pleasure and surprise when Raistlin very gently ran his teeth over her skin while flicking the nipple with his hot, wet tongue.

The archmage noted how she reacted and locked this bit of information in his mind. Yurielle's delicate cries and heavy breaths were making him drunk with a new kind of power. The taste and smell of her warm, excited skin filled his senses and flamed his own desire. The faint flavor of mint from her soap mixed with her sweat damp flesh made his blood pool hotly in his lower abdomen, nearly making him dizzy.

So very slowly Raistlin worked his way farther down along Yurielle's body with his mouth. Through the valley between her breasts, along her ribs and over the planes of her stomach, he enjoyed every shudder that she gave him. His tongue flicked around that belly button with its little piercing, he had to make sure to greet it before continuing lower.

Yurielle's voice continued to croon her encouragement as he achingly nibbled at her skin. The lower he went, Raistlin deepened his kisses, savoring her as his lips played along smooth skin then the soft dark hair that lightly covered her mound.

“Raistlin!” she cried his name as his mouth finally covered her swollen need. Her back hit the floor again, her eyes once more lost all focus as those golden lips kissed her folds.

He groaned deeply with approval as he tasted her and her reaction ignited every vein in his body. Carefully he teased her with his tongue, trying to mimic the dance she did with her own tongue inside his mouth. His eager mind noting every point he touched that made her gasp and cry out in pleasure. She especially moaned as he gently sucked at that little nub of flesh at the apex of her folds.

Pulling one leg up over his shoulder Raistlin could feel Yurielle's muscles quiver and tense as he worked her lips with his. She was building up fast to a sweet release; her body trembling under him, her cries were incoherent sounds of pleasure.

Slowly, achingly so, he slid the fingers of one hand back inside of her to continue where he had left off as he teased her with his tongue. But within seconds Yurielle suddenly arched, her leg over Raistlin nearly knocked him down flat to the floor as she unexpectedly exploded.

Raistlin felt the deep muscles inside of her spasm against his long fingers as his name was breathed from her mouth. In fascination he watched her come apart below him, her nerves firing repeatedly until he wondered how she could possibly continue.

Slowly Yurielle slumped back, perfectly spent against the floor and the lush carpet of his study. Glowing with ecstasy, her body lay among the stars and moons of magic that were depicted on the rug below her as if she belonged among those celestial beings.

Raistlin propped himself up with his other arm and took in the sight of her laying utterly satisfied in his study. “How did I do my Shalafi?” he asked, his voice was smug yet in awe of what he had accomplished as he carefully removed his fingers from her. “Was that what my lips had done before?”

Yurielle laughed lightly as he trailed his marvelous hand back up her body, it was slick from pleasuring her and the touch of it sent shocks through her still sensitive body. “No Raistlin, this was better! So much better!” she panted, trying to catch her breath and as she floated back down from her orgasm. “You get a gold stamp of approval!”

Their eyes locked and she giggled under him. The sound of her laughter quickly growing to fill the room. He arched an eyebrow at her, slightly confused by her sudden humor and unsure if he should be flattered or offended.

“It's funny because _you're_ gold Raistlin!” Yurielle exclaimed, her face beaming up at him.

The archmage smirked at her then, but was more distracted by her body than her joke. Her skin was like silk in his hands as those long fingers fondled her nipples once more.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured quietly as he traced around them gently. “You have no idea how I enjoy seeing you blush.” His eyes watched as again the surface of her body darkened to that lovely pink hue as she flushed at his praise. She was still heaving under him as she had yet gotten her breath under control.

“Breathe sweet Yuri,” he called softly to her and he watched enthralled as she still squirmed under his searching hands. He honestly didn't expect her to be this eager and open to his touch. Needless to say it was a pleasant surprise and Raistlin found that he didn't want to stop touching her.

“I'm trying,” she whined halfheartedly. “But... if you keep touching me, I'll never get up off this floor!”

A hungry smile played at his mouth. “So eager for more my delicious Star?” he asked as he unabashedly brought that hand to his mouth to enjoy the last remaining taste of her on his fingers. He met her wide eyes and loved as she blushed even harder; her whole body was nearly red in his eyes now. “I know I will enjoy doing that again for you.” For indeed he would enjoy it, there simply was nothing else in his mind that was as good as her.

“Hmmm,” she hummed her approval even as she felt her skin heat. Gods she must be redder than the robes on a neutral mage!

As if hearing her thoughts, the archmage couldn't help but chuckle as he said, “By the gods Yuri you are as red as Lunitari! Whatever are you embarrassed by now?”

“I didn't think that you would...” she paused, chewing on her lower lip.

Raistlin arched an eyebrow. “That I would what?” he asked, leaning over her. His hair fell from his shoulders and trailed along her body as he drew near her face again.

“Do THAT!” she exclaimed. “Gods your mouth! You say mine is bossy but yours... It was so...” she didn't have words.

“Liked it did you?”

“You know I did,” she smiled coyly up at him.

“Hmmm,” he hummed back at her as he settled down next to her on the rug. “Really? I couldn't quite tell over all the noise you were making. I have no doubt the neighbors are already penning their strongly worded letters of complaint to the authorities.”

Yurielle couldn't stop the bark of laughter that escaped her. “Good! I hope that by morning, every single person in this city has heard me scream your name! The post will be so flooded with letters that there will be anarchy and panic on the streets, all because of you and that crafty mouth of yours!”

“Anarchy you say?” he grinned, his eyes were playful in a way that Yurielle had never seen them.

“Complete and utter chaos Raistlin!” she agreed, pulling him closer to her, “Nothing like it since the Cataclysm. We'd better stay here where it's safe.”

His smug expression only increased at his knowing how he had pleased her. “I've wanted to kiss you - ALL of you - for a long time Yurielle,” he said as he ran a hand through her hair. “Besides, you were the one wondering what else my lips could do. I have yet to kiss you everywhere,” Raistlin murmured as he again ran his lips over the skin on her forehead. “If there's going to be the fall of civilization around us, then let us really see what they can do.”

“That's no fair Raistlin!” she gasped breathlessly as those lips along her flesh made her dizzy with memory of that first time his lips had touched there.

He drew back. “What isn't fair about it?”

“Maybe...” Yurielle sat up then and placed her hand against the center of his chest. “Maybe I'd like to kiss you everywhere Raistlin.” She gave a playful smirk and boldly pushed him to the floor. “Doesn't your Shalafi get to have any fun?”

Raistlin grew still and wide-eyed at her boldness as she suddenly and unexpectedly took all control from him.

“We have much to learn and the night is young Raistlin. I would very much like to please you as well, if you wish it...” Her eyes were bright and dilated, pupils so wide her irises looked nearly black in the firelight. There was a desire in them, not unlike the hunger for knowledge she had when presented with a new book. However, Raistlin could see that this was a primal and raw need that no book could fill.

The archmage was now lying below her, his heart beating in his chest so hard that he nearly forgot how to breathe. An odd mix of terror and excitement flooded through him. Gods she was so beautiful and eager! But the thought of giving up control to someone else, even her, filled Raistlin with dread.

“You'll find that I can be quite insatiable when there's something that I enjoy archmage,” Yurielle was saying, her voice was like silk through his brain. “I need to enjoy more of _you_ Raistlin!”

Alarm filled him when it really began to sink in that her yearning was truly for _him_.

She was eager, she was his, and she wanted HIM. Suddenly Raistlin realized that he alone did this to her. Not his magic, not his ambition, not his will.

HE did.

A new thrill ran through his body, strong and hot and unlike anything Raistlin had ever expected. But the feeling was laced with anxiety, leaving him uncertain if she would feel the same way once she finally saw this shell of his.

Yurielle clicked her tongue as those eyes roamed his still clothed body beneath her. “This is unfair that I'm naked and you're still dressed. It simply is no good,” she pouted those kissable lips and tugged at his clothing.

Raistlin watched her, trying to resist the deeply ingrained urge to recoil from her hands.

Yurielle yanked at his tunic, pulling it up out of his trousers with hard little tugs. “I'd like to see you Raistlin. You let me be the judge of this body! Are you truly all gold?”

Her hand ran under his shirt and, despite the fact that he wanted her to touch him, Raistlin visibly tensed at the contact. “'Tear my clothes off more often and find out',” he quoted back at her. His usually soft voice was thick and husky but he had also grown still, his body frozen at the contact of her hand against his bare skin. Suddenly, now that it was about him, he wasn't all that sure he was ready for this and he tensed even harder as her hand ran along his stomach.

“Let's keep that your specialty dark mage. Maybe I'd like to savor this reveal...” she said but she had halted her hand below the fabric of his shirt and looked uncertainly up into his face when she felt him tense.

Yurielle knew that Raistlin was uncomfortable, knew that he feared being so exposed. “I won't hurt you Raistlin,” she said softly, meeting his eyes and seeing that uncertain and terrified expression he had in those cursed golden orbs.

“I know...” he whispered back and nodded, giving her permission, “I know you won't.”

“We can stop if you want too,” she said, making no move to continue.

“No,” was his sincere reply. He needed this. Even if he was uncertain of how Yurielle would still feel after seeing this frail body of his. Raistlin needed her to see him, no matter what would come of it. Golden eyes met hers again. “Please touch me Yuri,” he said in that quiet, raspy voice of his.

Yurielle gave him a warm smile and that soft hand of hers continued in her caressing beneath his shirt. “Hmmm...” she hummed, gently and slowly taking her time now along his body. “Stomach... Ribs... Chest..,” she took inventory of every part she named off as she explored. “I already could see that you have arms and legs. Besides being gold, you _feel_ normal to me. Everything is where it should be,” she concluded.

“You feel so soft Raistlin... so... _warm_!” There simply was no other word for him as Yurielle's hand gently ran over his flesh. The archmage's skin was exceedingly smooth and soft. Being nearly hairless, what body hair he did have was fine and thin, so pale that it was almost translucent. The surface of his skin was warm due to the magic coursing through it.

And _gods_ that magic... Yurielle felt it tingling through her fingertips, humming in her mind.

Watching his eyes, Yurielle slowly gathered the fabric of his tunic up, pulling it along his body. Raistlin moved in order to assist her in taking it off. The fabric whispered as she tossed it aside to join the ruin of her own clothes.

Raistlin sat back then, propped up on an elbow, his other hand unconsciously covering his chest. He then realized what he was doing and slowly lowered it away as he watched her with wary eyes while those indigo orbs ran along his bare skin.

This shattered form of his.

Wane and on the thin side, Yurielle still found that Raistlin Majere had a fine body. His years as a mercenary and fighting in the War of the Lance had blessed him with a lean layer of muscle that he had not lost in the time since. It wrapped around him giving some cushion to the sharp angle of his bones beneath as well as giving him planes of definition along his stomach and chest. Hints of his ribs glided underneath his gold skin as he breathed, his collarbones jutted out perhaps a tad too much as did the bones of his shoulders.

Those lean shoulders and his slender chest narrowed down to a thin waist with slightly projecting hip bones that Yurielle could see over the top of his pants that had ridden low during their tumbling.

Raistlin was thin yes, but he did not look frail to her.

The most powerful archmage on Krynn was wiry and lanky, but not frail. In Yurielle's mind, Raistlin Majere was far from it. This body before her was one of constant struggle, one that burned with the fire of his own magic that both consumed and protected him.

This body was powerful to her for despite all odds, this man had survived years of constant illness and draining of his own life force. Yurielle knew that any weaker man would have long ago given up and died. She considered this as her eyes drank him in, as he had done her. There was a beauty here in front of her that she didn't think he understood existed. Looking into his eyes she knew instantly that she was right, for he looked sullen.

Yurielle realized that he expected mockery.

His eyes widened when she gave him the opposite.

“You're stunning Raistlin,” she ran a hand lightly over those ridges of his chest, feeling the hardness beneath the golden skin once more. Softly she teased his nipples; they were several shades darker than his skin but still metallic in their coloring. They sharpened under her touch, becoming sensitive.

As she explored his skin she noted how he was still braced for that mockery that would never come from her. Taut and coiled like a snake, his physique reflected it. It didn't seem as if his muscles knew how to relax as if he was always ready to defend himself. Even as she softly caressed him, Raistlin wouldn't let go. She slowly continued, feeling those ribs between her fingers, his smooth stomach, all encased in fiery gold.

“You are sublime Raistlin...” Yurielle murmured, “simply perfect.”

Raistlin sucked in a breath at her declaration. “I... I am not built like most men...” he uttered, his eyes closed so as to not look at her. He did not want to see her reaction.

“But you are _not_ most men my darkness, my dear Raistlin,” she sang at him, her voice hummed in his veins.

“This body is not strong,” he confessed to her as he sank to the floor under her, finally and slowly he began to relax, allowing her to touch him as he had fantasied for so long. Raistlin took a slow, shuddering breath as he fought his instinct to draw away. Her touch felt _so_ good and he wanted more of it. But his every instinct of self-preservation was screaming at him.

Yurielle tore her eyes from admiring his form and looked back into his face. Raistlin still seemed uncomfortable but he was finally beginning to react to her hands on him positively so she continued to explore his warm, metallic body.

“No?” she asked gently, arching an eyebrow at him, “Why do you say that Raistlin?”

“I am not like my brother...” he spoke his insecurity as she explored his body with her elegant hands. His eyes would still not meet hers.

For the first time now, Yurielle hesitated. Suddenly she understood so much about the man before her as everything clicked in her mind. The loathing that Raistlin said he had for his twin, she knew then that it was only loathing at himself. He envied his strong and handsome brother, never once realizing that he indeed matched his other half, and did uniquely in his own way. Gold and lean, Raistlin was a font of magic and power instead of brute strength.

“No, you are very much NOT your twin from what I've heard of him,” Yurielle agreed softly, her words lovingly caressed him like her hands were. “And you are a fool to even think that you need to be! What use is brawn to a man like you Raistlin? Your body reflects your mind. You are hard, sharp, and cunning. With your own kind of power and strength...” Her fingers traced gently over his skin, dancing along the smooth gold surface and trailing patterns across his flesh like he had done to her.

“Besides, what use do _I_ have with brute muscles? Absolutely none!” Raistlin could hear her say through the pounding of blood in his ears.

“You are magic and so am I. We are meant to be together Raistlin Majere.” Yurielle thought she heard a sob somewhere in his throat, his hands grasped tightly at the rug beneath him. His arms were trembling.

Either in fear or pleasure, Yurielle wasn't sure.

“There's _nothing_ wrong with you!” she declared. “I want _this_ body Raistlin... I want you,” she told him earnestly. She leaned down then and ran her lips over his in an attempt to pull him out of his discomfort. “YOU Raistlin,” she repeated against his mouth, forcing him to open his eyes to look at her.

“I don't want a man like your twin. I don't even want your power, not even your magic. I already have that for myself. _You_ ,” she breathed, “Just you. I want the man who sees me, the man who saved me. The man who tenderly cared for me when I couldn't care for myself,” she whispered. “I want that man! You, the one who stood beside me against the Conclave, the man who freed me, the man who ignites me! I want you, your body. I want _my_ Raistlin...”

There was that sound again. A sad sound, somewhere between a sob and a whimper, issued quietly from his throat. The look in his eyes told Yurielle that he was trying to believe her, that he _wanted_ to believe her. But he just couldn't.

“You are perfect for me,” she said softly and kissed him again. Her hands on either side of his face, she held him there under her as she gently and tenderly kissed him.

The archmage said nothing as he watched Yurielle as she very slowly began to mirror what he had done to her, gently kissing her way down his neck and across both of the hard ridges of his collarbones.

Yurielle could feel him tremble under her as he fought with years of avoiding physical contact. It was a knee jerk reaction to draw away from being touched. Being so exposed and vulnerable was hard for Raistlin and she saw this plainly.

The woman could tell that he wanted so badly to take hold of her with his arms that he kept at his sides, holding tightly to the rug beneath him. She could tell that he wanted to take control back from her but he was restraining himself, forcing himself to allow her to explore him. Forcing himself to be at the mercy of another person.

It was a struggle Yurielle couldn't understand, but she respected that he _was_ struggling and took cues from his reactions. Slowly she went from planting small little kisses down his chest to once again touching him with her hands as she sat back away from him.

Raistlin seemed, at least right now, to be more comfortable with her hands. Indeed, he relaxed further under her caresses as he took another slow, shuddering breath beneath her.

“Are you alright?” Yurielle asked softly, truly not wishing to continue if he was that uncomfortable.

At first Raistlin seemed confused but the archmage quickly realized what she was asking. A softness entered his eyes then as that warmth he was still not used to blossomed in his chest at her concern for him. “Yes Yurielle,” he breathed quietly. “Please...” his one hand found hers then and he gently pushed it lower down his stomach before releasing her. “Despite how it appears, I _am_ enjoying your touch. I'm just... not used to it yet.”

Indeed he was enjoying it, if the bulge in his pants was any indication.

“Good. Because I love touching you Raistlin,” Yurielle smiled gently at him. “I wish you could see yourself as I see you,” she said as her hands softly massaged him, now lightly running along his arms as well as his chest. She did this for several minutes, lightly touching his skin and searching it like she had that first night she had come here, the act earned her a pleased sigh in response as Raistlin too was remembering that night.

Lightly running her fingers down along his golden stomach, she finally came his trousers. Gliding her fingers along under the edge of the fabric, Yurielle teased his smooth flesh beneath and played with the soft hairs she could feel against her fingertips. This act earned her a low moan as Raistlin's golden orbs rolled back in his head while her fingers played along his skin, so close yet so agonizingly far from him.

“There's nothing wrong with you Raistlin Majere,” she stated again. “I can't even begin to guess or understand where you ever got that idea into your head. Unless that is, you have three dicks in your pants or are cube shaped...” she said lightly, her eyes glittered at him from behind her dark lashes. “Then it might take me a bit to adjust to _that_ idea. But what I see is beautiful and I think that you are perfection Raistlin. There's no one else that I want to share myself with but you.”

Raistlin's eyes opened once more as she spoke, the gold within them blazed with fire as they focused again on her. Yurielle held him in her gaze and he watched her react as her hand now explored him over top of the fabric of his pants.

Running her hand along his crotch now, Yurielle's eyes widened at what she felt underneath the now very taut fabric. “Nope, just one...” she breathed, “And definitely NOT cube shaped.”

Oh yes Raistlin Majere was definitely not lacking as he thought he was.

The archmage panted under her stroking hand, groaning low in his throat. The friction of her hand there was driving him into agony and his hips began to glide under her slow touch, instinctively wanting to thrust into something, anything.

“Still gold though?” Yurielle asked, now watching him squirm under her caresses. The most powerful archmage of this age was at her mercy.

“Would that be too strange?” Raistlin replied, his voice shaky, uncertain. Again he seemed to her ashamed of how he looked.

Gods why didn't he see how perfect he was?!

“No,” she rumbled in that sweet timbre of her voice, making his whole body ache. “You'd better be or I'll be sorely disappointed!” Yurielle grinned hungrily at him but made no move to take his pants off or expose him. She would let him give her the signal when he was ready.

Raistlin's eyes met hers and that spark of desire that he saw in her eyes ignited him now.

Black gods he could not take it!

Long golden fingers went to the ties at the front of his pants to clumsily undo the ties there. As he worked, Yurielle's own fingers began tugging on the rim of the cloth, eager for him to be free. Once the strings were loose enough she reached down along his body to find him. Her own eyes grew wide once she touched him.

“Gods Raistlin, you think you're _lacking_?!” she asked incredulously as she finally wrapped her fingers around him and stroked him slowly.

His whole body shuddered on the floor at her touch as a moan escaped his throat. He was unable to form words to reply to her.

With her one hand Yurielle touched Raistlin and with the other pulled the fabric of his pants down his legs. Raistlin shifted his legs as best he could through the haze of sensations to aid her better. Soon his garments lay forgotten with the rest of their clothes.

Yurielle gasped as he sprang free, knowing he'd be golden but taken aback by just how large and ready he was for her. She had never been with a man, but she had studied anatomy. Raistlin wasn't huge but to Yurielle, he was bigger than she expected when considering his frame and she was pretty sure that there was no way she was going to come out of this unscathed.

But gods she wanted him! Wanted _all_ of him inside of her.

“Where am I going to put all of you?” she asked, a slight nervous giggle escaped her giddy mouth as she ran her hand up and down his length marveling at him. She touched him, stroked him almost worshipfully as he quivered below her. His skin was smooth and soft, slippery with his own arousal and of course so metallic and gold that it almost didn't seem real to her.

Raistlin's swollen manhood was so very hot in Yurielle's hands. His heat radiated around her, enveloped her in his aura of magic that suffused his being so completely that his very skin seemed to vibrate with his power.

Yurielle wanted to know what that would feel like within her. All of that heat, that magic, the hum of it _there_... The thought made her ache with want as her eyes met his. Her skin flushing darkly she said quietly, “I want you inside of me Raistlin.”

It wasn't a request, it was a command.

“Gods!” he exclaimed. His eyes were on fire as he suddenly pulled her down to him and kissed her mouth hotly while he rolled them over so that she was splayed beneath him once again. He moaned into her mouth when she spread her legs under him and her yearning was suddenly against his. She had instinctively opened up for him, her wet thighs on either side of his hips and trapping his length between them.

It was painfully maddening!

Pulling away from her face, Raistlin looked into her eyes, trepidation and uncertainty shown in those hourglass orbs. “I am _not like_ my twin...” he stated once again, voice husky and raw. “And I refuse to act like him! Giving into every lustful thought and taking every woman in his path that he wants.” His hand grasped at the rug by the side of Yurielle's face, his other elbow rested beside her shoulder as he lifted himself above her, their skin slid together as he left that burning spot between her legs.

“Tell me Yurielle... tell me what you want from me! Please tell me what to do!” he begged haltingly.

“Raistlin...” she whispered, taken aback by the unexpected look on his face, the deep longing and fear in his voice, this strange vulnerable uncertainty that he was struggling with. It should be so very obvious what she wanted. But, Yurielle had to remind herself, Raistlin didn't know how to be human.

“I will not just _take_ you!” he uttered. “You're not some prized horseflesh everyone gets to ride on and I REFUSE to treat you as such!” his words were choked now. “Not you... not my star... ” He trembled with the effort of holding himself up as he battled with his desire, “...not my Yurielle.”

 _'My Yurielle,'_ his voice echoed in her bones. Every time he spoke that way Yurielle's heart thrilled at it.

Raistlin trembled above her and reflexively jerked when she lifted and wrapped a long leg around his to pull him back to her. Unable to resist that feel of her against him he slowly sank down to her, a helpless whimper escaped his throat as once again he felt her dampness against his length.

“You're not like him,” she agreed as she pulled him to her. “I want this, I want you!” Yurielle moved against him, flesh rubbing slowly together once he had settled there.

So very close...

“Please Raistlin,” she pleaded and pulled his face back to her mouth. “I don't want you to just _take_ me,” she gasped, grinding herself along him. He was so hard against her quivering body and so, so very close!

“I want you to make love to me!” she exclaimed between kisses. “I'm yours... no one else's... none other! I belong to you!”

“Mine...” Raistlin declared again and slowly responded with his own body, pressing his pelvis into hers. Grinding together they quickly increase their tempo as they learned one another's movements, friction increasing by the second as their bodies rocked.

Gods so close!

The heat and feel of him there sliding through her folds was beautiful, the way each thrust against her made her gasp with building ecstasy. “I love you..!” the words tumbled out of Yurielle in a joyous sob as they danced.

“Please!” she was the one to whimper now as Raistlin suddenly drew himself away as if she had slapped him, his body frozen in mid dance, bringing every blinding sensation to a sudden halt.

Raistlin's eyes met hers, his face more human than she had ever seen him. “Love...? _Me_?” he whispered.

Yurielle noted the awe and fear in his voice. “Yes!” her eyes were wide at how innocent he looked in that moment. Tears misted her own eyes. “I love you Raistlin,” she confessed quietly, reaching up for his face.

“ _How_? How can you possibly?” his voice seemed strangled, disbelieving her words yet again.

Yurielle touched his face tenderly. “Raistlin... don't you know by now? A star needs darkness to shine within _._ ”

A single hot tear fell from his eyes onto her cheek as her earlier words echoed in his mind. _'My darkness... my Raistlin,'_ she had said to him. Raistlin's heart skipped inside of his chest, shuddering as if it were just now sparking to life within his being. There was pain as that warmth, the feeling that had so terrified and confused him before, coursed fully through his body. He finally understood what it was as it burned away the gnawing void inside of him.

Raistlin nodded, another hot tear fell and joined the first. “Yes...” his voice caught. “My Yurielle,” he whispered. “My love. Mine.”

Yurielle's heart seemed to explode within her at that moment and in her mind all she saw was gold and warmth as his mouth met hers.

Raistlin kissed her then as together they grew in passion once more, tongues weaving and dancing as his mouth claimed hers for his own. Yurielle moaned eagerly when his hands lifted her rocking hips and he noted that she was tense and ready to explode just from their kisses and his insistent grinding against her. But he wouldn't let her release yet, not without doing as she asked.

Raistlin Majere would make love to her. He would finally make her his. There was no other path to walk down besides with her. Raistlin wanted it no other way. Yurielle wanted it no other way. They were already one inside of each other, now they would be one in body as well.

Carefully, Raistlin aligned himself to her opening before slowly sliding forward against her between her welcoming thighs. Hot and burning, he advanced as Yurielle arched and cried out when he felt resistance.

Raistlin nearly lost himself as he pushed into her, filling her completely. He hadn't expected the intensity of the wetness and heat that greeted him. The tight feeling of her around him was almost too much!

However marvelous it was for him, Yurielle had frozen beneath him. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and her breathing came in small gasps. “Yuri...?” Raistlin asked unmoving, dismayed that he had hurt her.

Yurielle whimpered quietly even as she began to rock slowly, already feeling the stab of pain ease out of her as the wave of pleasure returned to pull her back under. “I'm alright,” her body trembled and the archmage nearly exploded at the sensation of being inside of her.

“So... warm...” Yurielle's unsteady voice mewled around them. “Gods Raistlin! More!” she demanded and began to move her hips against him, her rocking becoming eager in her need to feel him.

“Stop!” he growled, pushing himself down on her, still inside of her he breathed heavily. “I can't hold... I'll....” he stilled, gasping against her neck, feeling her racing pulse against his skin. Raistlin clenched at her hips with both his hands in an attempt to hold her still.

They lay together like that for many seconds, both trembling and breathing heavily as they grew used to the intimate contact. When the wave of pain and unbearable pleasure passed, Yurielle wrapped both legs up around his slender hips. Together they sucked in a breath as the change in angle set their raw nerves aflame.

“I want to dance with you my darkness....” she whispered at him, her hands around his shoulders, grasping him tightly. “Are you ready Raistlin?”

Gods he had wanted this for so long. To be surrounded by her, to fill her and bring her pleasure. Suddenly all of his previous fears seemed so ridiculous to the archmage now that he was finally here. Raistlin had thought this would be impossible.

The very thought that this woman he had grown to cherish would ever actually want him had once seemed as far out of reach as the moons above them. But now, Raistlin saw the folly of his thoughts as her thighs squeezed around him, holding him and accepting him. He nodded against her neck to signal to her that yes, he was ready.

Yurielle's legs loosened, opening for him to allow him movement. Very slowly he slid back ever so slightly, the sound she made took his breath away but it didn't compare to the sound that escaped her when he slid back deeper into her with a moan of his own. “Like this Shalafi?” he asked, his long fingers still held her hips tightly.

“Yes...” her voice vibrated against his forehead still pressed against her chest right above her breasts. “YES!” she cried when he repeated it, only with slightly more vigor.

Raistlin drew his head back and one hand went next to her head. His long fingers dug into the weave of the carpet to better hold himself up so that he could watch her as he increased his tempo, unable to stop now.

Once he had thought this was as far out of reach as the moons, but instead here she lay, surrounded by said moons upon his rug. It was a glorious sight that moved Raistlin's heart greatly as again and again he made her cry out in pleasure.

Yurielle's eyes were half lidded, watching him in return with a look of pure ecstasy on her face. It was so similar to what Raistlin had seen when he had warded her with his spell all those months ago. Similar, but far more delicious now as he now fully claimed her for his own.

Caught in the spell of her being Raistlin gazed, mesmerized as he watched her eyes roll back in pleasure, and watched her breasts heave with every thrust, her mouth gasp with every wave that threatened to take them both under. The sound their bodies made together mingled with their groans and harsh breathing, chorused with her repeated moans of his name, was the sweetest song that Raistlin had ever heard Yurielle sing.

Her hands grasping his shoulders were nearly painful in how hard she held onto him and he could feel her tightening around him, building and nearing the edge. Closing his eyes he focused on keeping himself under control. He wouldn't finish before her! Stubbornly the archmage held on using that iron hard will he had forged through the years as his thrusting became harder, erratic in his pace. “Yuri...!” he exclaimed, his voice harsh and rough with passion, filled with a desperate plea to let him release.

The searing heat and hum of him inside of her body was too much, every angle and movement in their tight fit was mind blowing as he thrust deeply into her, grinding and setting nerves on fire Yurielle didn't know she had!

Suddenly everything inside of Yurielle ignited, her back arched violently and she cried his name while golden stars erupted behind her eyelids. The wave washed over the both of them and Raistlin was blessed with that tightening around him, spasming hard and commanding him to join her this time.

He was only happy to oblige.

Raistlin's own feral cry escaped his throat as he joined her, filling her. He shuddered as he pumped inside of her, his release a fraction of a heartbeat behind hers.

The archmage fell forward then, only to be caught in her soft and welcoming arms.

There was nothing but bliss and light as they fell.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully that was worth the long slow burn. ;p  
> Also fun fact - that was the longest chapter to date! I really tried to get it right. Maybe I went overboard? But I think such an life changing event was pretty important for both of them and there needed to be dialogue and things that each of them needed to work through.  
> Thanks again for reading everyone!


	38. The Star and Her Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight NSFW warning for this chapter. It's by no means as intense as last week. But there may be some raised eyebrows if people are reading over your shoulder ;)
> 
> ~~~~~~
> 
> 'I can feel you all around me  
> Thickening the air I'm breathing  
> Holding on to what I'm feeling  
> Savoring this heart that's healing'  
> ~Flyleaf 'All Around Me'

There was only bliss in that moment.

Every nerve and surface of their bodies was alight with pleasure and awash with ecstasy. Lost and completely entangled with one another, the Star and the Hourglass Mage descended into oblivion as they collapsed together on the rug beneath them.

Yurielle caught Raistlin as they fell back down and could hear his ragged breathing and felt him struggle against her for air. The extent of his scarred lungs made themselves known as his breath rattled from the exertion of their lovemaking and the intensity of his release.

She felt her own breasts heave against the archmage as she cradled him, holding him against her possessively, unwilling to let him go as he had done to her only hours ago. The woman's legs were still weakly wrapped around him, holding him inside of her. They lay like that, trembling and panting together in their haze of half awareness, completely shocked at the magnitude of what had just happened. Weeks of mutual tension finally released with mind blowing results.

Nothing else existed. There was only Yurielle for Raistlin and only Raistlin for Yurielle. It wasn't just magic that bound them now. Not just flesh and heartbeats.

It was bliss and ecstasy.

“Gods Raistlin,” Yurielle's voice shivered. “That was....” she had no words.

“Far too ephemeral,” Raistlin said from somewhere inside the cascade of hair that had fallen around them. 'Gods did that just happen?' was all he could think from within a haze of pleasure as he fought to control his breathing. Silently cursing his weak body, Raistlin found that his lungs were on the verge of rebelling at the unexpected effort he had just put them through.

Yurielle's breathy giggle made Raistlin very aware that he was still inside of her; in awe of how he felt everything she did being connected intimately the way they were. 'Yes, yes indeed that just happened!' his mind raced as he slowly forced his lungs to calm with slow, even breaths.

“I was going to say glorious Raistlin!” her voice pierced his disbelieving thoughts a few moments later.

He lifted himself up now, weakly so, for his arms were still trembling. But he no longer felt like he was dead. Surprised golden orbs met hers. “Truly?”

A frown pouted Yurielle's lips as worry blossomed in those indigo eyes. “Wasn't it... for you?”

His breath froze. “Yes! Gods _yes_!” he exclaimed, banishing her sudden fear.

Yurielle traced a hand tenderly along his face. “Kiss me.”

He obeyed.

They kissed slow and languidly, savoring each other in their post coital glow.

“Thank you for the lesson Shalafi,” he murmured into her mouth. “I have learned much.” Raistlin felt her lips turn into a smile against his own.

“You are the very best pupil. None better. You dance marvelously Raistlin,” she sighed as their lips broke apart. “I didn't know that was possible the first time!”

He met her wide, shimmering eyes and couldn't help but grin. Raistlin still had a hard time accepting that he had shared this moment with her. But here they lay together, their flesh pressed against one another, limbs still tangled on his rug.

“Are you going to be alright?” she asked and ran her hand along his face. “Your lungs don't sound too happy right now...”

“I just need a moment,” he said wearily.

“Take all the time you need,” Yurielle stated. “I'm not going anywhere!” she kissed his forehead.

Their eyes locked again when she drew away and the openness that Yurielle saw in those golden hourglass eyes made her pause. “You're not going anywhere because of your current position or...” his voice dropped lower and he hesitated, “because you do not wish to leave?”

“Both Raistlin,” she gave him a reassuring smile. “One, you have me pinned and I couldn't move even if I wanted to and second, I'm not leaving _you_.”

A whisper of a smile touched his lips. “Good,” he stated, “because I do not wish for you to go.”

They stared at one another in content silence for several minutes. Raistlin gently touching the lines of her face with his fingertips, locking every detail into his mind. Yurielle let the archmage have this moment of peace and quiet as she herself couldn't take her own eyes off of him. He was so close to her now, closer than he had ever been in all these weeks, and she marveled at how gentle and tender this powerful man could be and at how surreal he truly looked up close.

The golden sheen of his skin reflected the warmth of the fireplace nearby and the light of it softened every line and angle of his normally sharp features. His eyes, usually so hard and distant, were open and vulnerable. And for once he seemed to not even be trying to close himself off. Finally, he was letting himself be held under the power of another.

In this moment he was so very human.

Also, Yurielle realized as she watched him, Raistlin Majere seemed as if he had been given something he had always wanted and, now that he had it, he simply had no idea what to do with it. Yurielle could see it behind his eyes, his mind turning in a thousand different ways as he still struggled with the reality of what they had shared.

Taking her hand over his, she pressed it to her face at stared intently into his eyes. “Yes Raistlin, this is real. I'm real,” she whispered up at him, “and I'm yours.”

“Are my thoughts that obvious?” he asked, his eyes widening a fraction at how dead on she had guessed his mind.

She smiled and kissed his hand. “I'm starting to understand what I see in your eyes and the looks that you sometimes get on your face. I'm learning to read you archmage.” She smirked at him, a hint of smugness on her face.

“Gods help me,” he couldn't help but say with humor. Normally Raistlin knew that having another know his mind would have made him uneasy. But there was a strange comfort in the understanding that this woman had for him. That knowledge alone left him reeling.

Yurielle then shifted slightly under him and made a face. “I think that we've made quite the mess of ourselves....” she blushed demurely, so beautiful to those cursed eyes.

“I haven't even moved yet Yurielle,” Raistlin could feel himself blush as well. “I fear my rug will be quite ruined once I do. Thank the gods for cleaning cantrips!”

“We could just add it to the list we started,” she said playfully. “Your study could benefit from some redecorating, and _I_ from an expanded wardrobe. Especially if you are going to insist on ruining my clothing!”

Raistlin rewarded her with one of his rare and sincere laughs; the sound of it was raspy yet mirthful. The panic and anxiety that he had felt only hours ago were long forgotten. Banished and replaced with her.

There was only her.

“How do you _do_ that?” he marveled once his laughter subsided.

“Do what?” she asked smiling at his joy, loving the way his body felt pressed against hers.

“Make me laugh...” Raistlin answered.

“Because I'm funny!”

“You're not _that_ funny,” he replied evenly with a feigned bored expression on his face. But Yurielle could see how his golden irises glittered behind his dark lashes, clearly giving him away.

“I'm hilarious Raistlin and you know it!” she grinned up at him, those dimples that he adored so much flashed at him on her flushed cheeks.

He couldn't stop himself from grinning back and he leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose, her freckled cheeks, her forehead, and both of her soft eyelids before pulling back to gaze at her. After a few moments of looking at his Yurielle, Raistlin asked more seriously, “What do we do now sweet Yuri? What does this mean for us? I fear that I am utterly lost on this new path.”

She cocked her head at him slightly. “What do you mean?”

“No one has ever loved me before...” Raistlin whispered. “I have never... loved,” his eyes softened and she recalled the tears that he had shed.

“Do you?”

“Yes Yurielle,” he confirmed. His voice caressed her name like it always did when he spoke it. “How could I not love the only thing that brings me joy? The only one who makes me laugh, the only person that I see beauty in? My thread that I've waited for...” he traced his fingers along her face as if he couldn't stop himself. “The only star to shine in my darkness...” Raistlin's voice was soft, his tone reverent as he spoke these things to her, for he knew them in his soul to be true.

Raistlin finally, truly understood why he had struggled so badly with everything up until tonight. It was because he had no word for this new feeling that she had planted inside of him. Now that the shroud had been pulled back and everything inside of him laid bare, the depth of this feeling was shocking to him. But now, now that he knew what it was, Raistlin embraced it and refused to let it go.

He loved Yurielle.

He had always loved her.

Yurielle's heart thudded in her ribcage and tears shimmered in her eyes as she listened to him, knowing as well that these words were facts for the dark mage that had won her wild heart. The woman knew that she loved him, had known for quite some time now. But finally hearing the archmage echo her heart back to her almost made her burst into tears. “We walk this path together Raistlin, no matter what. That's what it means.”

The gold of his eyes shone at her brightly as his face softened into a tender and loving smile. All hardness and cynical lines were completely gone. In this moment Raistlin Majere was just a young man, glowing in the aftermath of this altering event with the one he cared for.

“I love you, my Yurielle...” he whispered to her quietly, hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure how to say it and was pulling the unfamiliar words out from the dusty corners of his being. “...My shining Star.”

Yurielle's heart had a hard time beating. _This_ was Raistlin, this was who she was trying to find. This was who she was trying to save, and he was so handsome, so perfect. Running her fingers along his face she replied, “And I love you my Raistlin. My sweet Darkness.”

With a content sigh, Raistlin closed his eyes again and sank back down to her, his head resting next to hers. “Together then... always,” he murmured into her ear, his lips grazing the skin gently.

“Yes always,” Yurielle agreed and held him against her, embracing him. After several moments she shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable. Now that the moment of passion had passed, she realized that having her legs so spread apart was beginning to make her hips ache but Yurielle didn't want their contact to end.

The act caused the archmage to draw away again and he looked down at her, at how he lay heavily on her, understanding dawning in his eyes. Raistlin knew that, though he was taller than her, they were both similar in weight and he realized then how she was bearing much of his body with hers. Reluctant to remove himself from her, he shifted his legs to better support himself, adjusting his position and weight as to not smother her.

Yurielle smiled at him with silent thanks as most of his weight left her, but she still refused to let him go. A thought occurred to her then. “How freakishly big is your twin that you would _ever_ think you are not man enough to satisfy a woman?! My GODS that poor wife of his! She must be so bow legged that the miserable woman can't stand!” she said incredulously.

Raistlin snickered, so ridiculous was the image she had planted in his mind. “I suppose he and I are blessed about the same. But he never lacked for bed-mates. Caramon seemed to instinctively have knowledge on what women wanted. He knew how to please them...” his eyes then took on a darker look. “They never were interested in me, especially when _he_ was around.”

“Never? Not a single one?” she asked softly, wanting him to open up to her more as she took his angular face in her hands.

He swallowed hard and nuzzled into her warm palms. “There... there was one. She seemed interested.... but when I went to her...” he shook his head as if to banish the memory. “I don't want to talk about it. Please Yurielle can our first pillow talk NOT involve my twin?!” She saw him begin to emotionally pull away, that cynical mask returning over his face to harden it against the memories.

“Raistlin...” she said gently, refusing to allow him to hide behind his usual walls. “Please, let me in. Help me understand. This isn't about your twin. This is about _you._ ”

Taking a slow breath Raistlin traced her own face with his hand and shifted against her again so that he was half propped up alongside her. She moved with him, her legs wrapped through his, their pelvises still anchored together while his torso leaned above her, held up by his other arm. Being so near Yurielle, Raistlin found strength in her as he willingly went to face this memory.

For her he would try.

“I found her with my brother,” he began slowly. “She was splayed under him in a storage shed like a common whore. He had already claimed her for his own and left nothing for me.” A dark line marred the skin between his eyes as he remembered. “What small warmth that I felt inside of me because of her few affections quickly turned into loathing. It shouldn't have hurt me as much as it did...” he confessed quietly. “She was a vain thing, as self-absorbed as she was pretty. She liked nothing more than the conquest of her nightly encounters, thought herself accomplished because of it.” There was disgust and bitterness in his voice as he spoke.

“What was her name?” Yurielle asked, her fingers gently traced patterns on his chest over his heart, knowing in her own that Raistlin had never told a single soul about this. Vaguely she wondered if his twin even knew.

Raistlin blinked in thought. “I... I no longer remember,” he stated. For it was true. Though her face remained with him, Raistlin Majere could not recall the name of the woman who had wounded him so.

“You realize that even if it wasn't your brother, you would have found her with another man eventually?”

“Of course,” he agreed. “She was new to town and only a few months after that night she was betrothed to yet a different man. She gave birth far sooner than what their wedding consummation would have suggested. It was the scandal of all Solace,” Raistlin continue with a slight smugness to the other woman's discomfort.

Yurielle chose to ignore it, knowing that he had to vent his frustrations.

“But because it was your twin that you found her with you've never been able to let it go...” she whispered in understanding, her other hand tucked a lock of his white hair behind his ear.

“Yes,” he confirmed, growing melancholy again as he caught her hand and pressed his lips against her palm gently.

“Does he know?” she felt herself ask. “That you discovered them together...?”

Raistlin met her eyes. “No,” was his nearly inaudible reply.

He braced himself then for the pity that he would for sure see now in her eyes. But still, to his awe, there was no pity. Yurielle just accepted this fact. She accepted that he was still bitter over something that had happened years ago and accepted that he hadn't, in his own mind, even been man enough to confront them about it.

There was a strange sensation within Raistlin's chest in that moment as her deep blue eyes held him. It felt as if something broke free and withered away into nothing. Like a poisonous thorn had finally festered its way out. It stung, but now the wound could finally heal.

Raistlin sighed, suddenly feeling infinitesimally lighter somehow. “You need to understand something Yurielle,” he stated, still trying to hold onto his bitterness but finding he wasn't able to. Instead his voice was just resigned. “Caramon got everything, got everyone. People like him and women want him. He's dumb as a fence post Yuri but has the body and strength that all desire while I, by comparison, am the weak runt that should not have survived...”

“Stop that,” Yurielle interrupted him with a stern look. “You're wrong Raistlin,” she stated then. “Your twin may be all those things but you obviously haven't been around very many women. Not all of us turn into batting eyelashes and fluttering bosoms at the sight of bulging muscles. I for one have been waiting for a man like _you_ Raistlin Majere.”

He scoffed as he absentmindedly wove strands of her hair through his fingers. “You've been waiting for evil incarnate with a shattered body, splintered soul, and wagon loads of emotional baggage?”

“Don't forget the massive ego with a god complex,” she playfully winked at him, trying to get him to smile again. “Those are the very best qualities all women look for in a man! Everyone knows that they make the best lovers!”

He sighed heavily. “I'm forcing myself to not roll my eyes at you right now Yurielle.”

She giggled up at him. Raistlin's eyes didn't leave her face but as she watched she could tell that his thoughts were still turning inward.

“I love you my darkness, my _beautiful_ Hourglass Mage,” her words were warm but firm as she became more serious. “You say that you are Master of the Past and Present, yet you seem master of nothing. For the past still weighs you down, even here right now in this perfect moment that we just shared together.

“I love you Raistlin,” she said again as she ran her thumbs across the ridges of his cheek bones, making him focus on her again, “and you need to accept that fact and move on from your past. It has poisoned you long enough and I'm not going to share you with bitter memories and emotions that you're too stubborn to let go of! Remember, I won't take half of you. It's all or nothing Raistlin Majere.”

Those strange eyes that she had grown to love so much softened again as he considered her words. Leaning down he kissed her gently, suddenly grateful for her presence next to him. “I'll try Yurielle...” he stated when they pulled apart. “For you, I will do this.”

“Good. But right now,” she said, still caressing his face. “I think we should get up and see what kind of hopeless ruin we've made of your study. That we can fix now. Your emotional baggage however... I'm afraid that may take longer. But this is a start.”

“Your insatiable hunger has been satisfied?” he asked, his mood lightening faster than he thought possible as his mind returned to the present and the connection they shared physically. All other things paled next to this woman.

“For now,” she shot back and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at him. “I'm not done with you yet you evil man! I'm going to make sure you get it through that thick skull of yours that you are more than adequate in pleasing a woman even if I have to tie myself to your bed and be your test subject all night long! Remember, we have anarchy to start out in the city before dawn...”

Raistlin's skin flushed at the mere thought of what she suggested. He grinned hungrily at her. “Oh yes we must make sure that this occurrence was no mere fluke of nature Yurielle. You are mine now,” he ran his hand down her body again, making her squirm. “And I will learn you until you beg me to stop!”

Raistlin marveled at the unexpected joy he felt at sharing himself with her and at the fact that Yurielle was sharing herself as well. This connection was so strange to him yet he also found the intimacy comforting in a way that he had never expected. Raistlin had never imagined such a thing were ever possible for a man like him and now that he had tasted pleasures of the flesh, now that his soul was intertwined with hers, now that he openly loved another, Raistlin Majere refused to look back.

“I'd expect no less of you,” she purred under him. “But later archmage, my legs are going numb you OX!”

Raistlin chuckled lightly before he leaned down and kissed her one final time. Yurielle returned the kiss passionately, teasing his mouth with that tongue of hers and leaving him with the promise for more. They broke apart then and, giving her a feral look, Raistlin slid out of her. Yurielle gasped at the movement and he suddenly froze as his eyes took in the scene of his conquest.

“Are you alright!?” Raistlin asked alarmed, his whole demeanor shifting. Hourglass eyes were locked on her thighs as he saw traces of red along his member and on her skin, mingling with all the other fluids they had created together.

Yurielle sat up with him and flushed deeply as she saw what he was looking at. “Yes Raistlin, I'll be fine. My maidenhead was not prepared for you.” With a slender hand on his chin she drew his eyes off of the damage he seemed to have caused and forced him to look her in the face.

“I'm fine Raistlin,” she soothed him by running her hands along his jaw. “Such a thing can be natural the first time. I suspect I'll be sore for a few days,” she winced as she moved her legs, there was wetness and warmth everywhere and her sex throbbed sharply at the movement. “Yup...” she gasped slightly, “that's going to sting for a while.”

The archmage sucked in a breath and Yurielle saw an apology form on his lips. “Don't you _dare_ be sorry!” Yurielle silenced him quickly with a finger over them. She leaned into him, pressing her body against his. “It's the smallest price to pay to finally have you inside me. I've wanted this for far, far too long...”

Raistlin kissed her finger and whispered an incantation before suddenly scooping her up in his arms. Bolstered by a strength spell, one he had made sure to learn after having to carry her before, Raistlin lifted Yurielle effortlessly in his arms and carried her across the room. “Far too long indeed,” he agreed as they crossed his study.

“Where...?” she asked even though she had an idea of where he was taking her. Yurielle's heart hammered in her chest as her body hummed with his use of magic. The tingle of his power around her was quickly heating and pooling low in her abdomen, awaking her desires once again.

“I don't know about you,” Raistlin said as he walked, “but all this activity is going to wreak havoc on my muscles tomorrow. Let's have a soak, shall we? If we have a night of experimentation ahead of us, we need to keep nice and limber.”

Yurielle giggled her approval of the idea as she wrapped her arms around him, kicking her legs playfully as he whisked her around the sofa so suddenly that she squealed in excitement.

Shouldering the heavy door open on the far end of the study Raistlin carried her into his personal bedchambers. While he walked, he knew that he was wearing the grin of a love struck fool. But he didn't care!

The archmage whispered a few words and Yurielle felt the magic swirl around them as orbs around the new room came alive and the fire in the hearth roared up suddenly at his command. Her eyes darted around the space and she noted the enormous four post bed draped with heavy dark curtains that sat in the middle of the room. The walls were filled with bookshelves and she had to crane her head to try to see it all as he quickly carried her past everything to the opposite side and through a smaller door. “You've been hiding _more_ books from me!?” she cried as the tomes disappeared behind as they passed.

Raistlin chuckled. “All in due time my dear. But, if your body is as insatiable as your mind is, I'm in worrisome trouble. One night will most certainly not be enough to sate your hunger.”

She laughed lightly as fire within a smaller hearth in this newest room flared up and she discovered that he had brought her into a lavish marble and granite washroom. Candles flickered to life on a ledge that ran along the outer wall, hard trails of wax dripping down over the edge from previous use. A huge porcelain tub sat at one end and he set her down on her feet next to it. Turning handles against the wall, water started to fill the tub.

Yurielle watched as it quickly filled and he put his hand in it and spoke a spell causing steam to instantly fill the room. Turning the water off Raistlin returned to her and offered his hand. “Your bath, my Star.”

Smiling at his new term of endearment, Yurielle took his hand and lifted her leg to climb in, hissing at the sting between her legs again. Raistlin's face darkened but he continued to assist her into the water without further comment.

“Gods DAMMIT!” Yurielle heard Raistlin cuss as she passed him. His free hand went to move her hair out of the way when she paused.

“What?” she turned and followed his eye line to the top of her back and shoulders. “Oh... shit,” she breathed. “THAT is definitely going to sting tomorrow.”

“Indeed,” he said darkly at the impressive rug burn across the skin on her shoulders. “Sit down in the water. Here is soap,” he handed her a small bar. “I'll get a salve for you.”

Yurielle took the soap and watched him exit into yet another room that sat off the side of the bath and she could hear small cabinets opening and closing in what she figured was where the rest of the private washing chambers sat.

Sniffing the soap she found that it was fragranced pleasantly with rose and a hint of patchouli. It offered a soft, feathery lather as she wet it and began to wash her skin, making sure to first rid herself of the stains on her legs that had distressed him so.

Hearing a slight gasp she turned to find Raistlin standing naked in the doorway, a small jar in his hand, eyes wide as he beheld her soapy form silhouetted against the fire and candle light. Her own eyes roamed his body; she could plainly tell that he liked what he was seeing.

Yurielle felt her skin flush under his gaze as she continued to lather the soap against her body, making sure to do it slowly as she played with her own flesh, watching his eyes as she did so. “You're doing that bad habit again archmage,” she grinned as she scolded him. “Either stand there gawking or join me while the water is still warm!”

A smirk flitted across his face again as he approached and gently set the jar on the small stone ledge where he had taken the soap from. His eyes holding hers, Raistlin proceeded to join her in the bath water. Settling behind her he sat back against the high edge and drew her down closer to him as he stretched his legs out on either side of her.

Raistlin kissed the red skin of her shoulder as she settled happily back against him. “I love it when you flush,” he reminded her again. “You're so beautiful,” those gold lips murmured against her skin. “So I'd prefer it if we didn't damage you each time...”

Yurielle sat between his legs, back to him but she turned slightly in his arms to view him better. “Trust me when I say it Raistlin, I didn't feel it happening. Besides, it looks like you didn't come out of our tryst unscathed yourself,” she reached up and ran a wet hand over the top of his shoulder where red gashes marred the golden skin where she had scratched him.

Raistlin gave the marks an appraising glance. “Battle scars I proudly wear.”

“You men and your manly scars,” she rolled her eyes at him and he drew her to rest against him in response.

Yurielle couldn't keep the smile from her face as Raistlin carefully gathered up her hair away from her shoulders. Some of the ends had gotten wet but he gently twisted the strands together and wound it up into a bun on the top of her head. Tucking the ends beneath the mass of hair he smiled back at her, almost shyly as he worked. “You have beautiful hair Yurielle,” he stated. “It reminds me of a vallenwood in autumn.”

“Vallenwood?” she asked before she remembered. “The giant trees in Solace?”

He nodded as he finished with her hair. Gently he traced his fingers down the back of her neck, following the ridges of her spine all the way down along her back, admiring her. “The very same.”

“Will.... will you show me them someday?” she asked softly, knowing that going there would mean one thing - seeing his brother.

Raistlin's fingers hesitated on her skin, his eyes flicked back up to hers. “Maybe...”

Yurielle smiled at him and leaned back, settling against him. “Only someday Raistlin,” she ran her hand along his leg next to her. “I'd love to see the trees of your childhood. But not until you choose to take me there. I can be patient.”

“You have been working hard at patience,” he agreed, amusement coloring his words.

The archmage continued his soft touches of her neck and back, soon his long fingers gently began to massage her shoulders, being careful with the irritated skin. The tender act earned him a pleased sigh as she relaxed in the warm water against him.

“Speaking of battle scars, you have one of your own remember?” he stated as he ran a thumb over the scar on her right shoulder blade. “I was terrified I was going to lose you that day...” he confessed quietly. “I’ve never been more afraid of anything.”

“But you didn't,” Yurielle said, turning again to look at him. “You went out of your way to save me.”

“And I would do it again,” Raistlin stated, pulling her back to him and wrapping his arms around her, hugging her protectively against himself.

They lay there reclined together in the soapy hot bath, comfortable in their silence, for many long minutes. Eventually Yurielle found herself humming softly as she idly drew little circles in the surface of the bubbles around them. Raistlin sighed and leaned his face against the side of her head and kissed her hair. His hands found her sides and started running along her skin.

“Am I the only one you see normally?” she asked suddenly.

“Yes,” he replied huskily, her voice had once again made his blood sing.

“Since when?”

He paused his caressing. “Since always.”

Yurielle thought back to their first meeting down in the crypts of the Great Library. The only thing that had announced Raistlin's presence to her was a small intake of breath. He had been unmoving and hadn't spoken to her for several moments. “You were in shock in the Library? That day we first met?”

“How could I not be? I came down there expecting to be alone but instead I found a beautiful woman bathed in silver light reading a necromancer's tome. A feather could have knocked me over in that moment!” Burying his face in the side of her hair he breathed her in, the mint he had tasted on her skin earlier was now mixed with the scent of his own soap. It was delicious.

“At first I almost thought you were a lich yourself,” he was saying while running the tip of his nose along the side of her head. “I've encountered a few beings that do not rot in my eyes. Dragons, gods, immortals, and those who leech life to keep themselves alive are still nearly perfect in my vision. Elves fade very slowly. But no normal human is untouched.”

“That golden thread around your eyes...” her own eyes misted and he squeezed her from behind in his arms once more. “So... it's really me?”

“Yes Yurielle,” he whispered into her neck. “You said that I fought the curse by holding out for ONE thing. You said I would know it when I saw it... it is you. Always you.” His lips kissed the side of her head reverently. His most prized treasure.

“Oh Raistlin,” she said softly, fighting tears as she realized what she was to him. She leaned back against him, nuzzling against him warmly.

He pulled his head away to gaze down at her. His eyes wandered over her long neck to her bosom where the tops of her breasts bobbed in the water, wet, soapy and glistening in the light in the room.

“What convinced you that I wasn't a lich?” she finally asked. “Raistlin?” she glanced up at him when he didn't reply.

“Hm?”

Yurielle gently elbowed him playfully with a giggle. “Bad habits mister! My eyes are not on my tits. How did you know I wasn't a lich?”

Raistlin looked chastised and tore his gaze away from her chest back to her eyes. “When you sang...” he answered. “Every time you sing you sparkle with magic and my blood soars.”

“Really?!” her eyes went wide. “What the _hell_ Raistlin why don't you tell me these things?” she scolded. “You know that I should be upset that you've kept all these secrets from me! It's a little embarrassing that I've been so oblivious...”

He shrugged in the water against her back. “I could accuse you of not telling me about the Guardians. But since the matter is over and done, let us not speak of it again. Besides,” he kissed her shoulder, “you never actually asked _why_ I stare at you. You've just focused on how irritating it is for you.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, making him chuckle again. All this contentment was nearly making him giddy.

“I know that I should have told you,” he said softly after a moment. “I should have yesterday when you thought I didn't want you because you believed my curse made you unappealing to me.”

Yurielle smiled at him softly. “Yes you should have,” she agreed. “But I know how you enjoy your hold over others. _That's_ a bad habit you might need to work on now...” her hand went to his face again. “But let us not speak of it again. It is in the past.”

His golden eyes softened and he laid a hand over hers on his face. “Thank you Yurielle.”

She drew his hand to her mouth and kissed it in response. “What else?” she asked and sat up now, drawing away from him. “You said that your 'blood soars'? What do you mean?”

He took hold of her hips and drew her back against him with a look. “You can't feel it?” Raistlin said huskily, shifting his pelvis against the back of her buttocks.

Yurielle's eyes widened in sudden understanding. Her mouth dropped open as she felt his erection against her. “I give you a boner every time I sing?!” she exclaimed with mirth. “God's Raistlin! And here I complained about blue balls!” she giggled into her hand, face growing red as she remembered teasing him about her being made to wait for the knowledge hidden in his Tower on that first night she had come here.

“I'm glad you find it so amusing,” he said dryly, his own skin flushing in that odd way. “For the record, you naked in a tub with me has escalated the feeling this night. It's usually much more manageable.”

Giving him a wolfish grin she arched an eyebrow. “I've underestimated your self-control Raistlin. But really, think of all the times we could have done this,” she gyrated her hips slowly against him, “before tonight! I tend to sing a lot...”

He chuckled and leaned back again against the side of the tub. “Indeed it has been a trial these few weeks.” His eyes roamed down her neck to her now revealed breasts. Her soapy form and sensual movement against him was making it very hard to concentrate. Raistlin's eyes glittered at her. “I guess I enjoyed the torment while it lasted. I think though... you did as well.”

Yurielle smirked. “I guess we both must enjoy a little torment.” She moved against him again, making him groan low in his throat and she could feel his manhood poking against her sensitive skin. Ignoring it, she only grinned playfully as she lightly ran her hand along his leg that lay next to her in the water, making sure to stop just at his thigh then trailing back down, making him squirm eagerly at her touch. His skin was warm and soft and hummed under her touch. “Your skin sings such a song to me Raistlin. It's almost like I can hear it. You're surrounded by magic, you vibrate with it. You feel _so_ good.”

“Good how?” he asked, leaning against her now and brushing his lips against her exposed neck.

Yurielle shuddered as those lips ran lightly along her skin. “I see your magic... I feel it when you touch me Raistlin. Everywhere you touch there's nothing but 'good'!”

“Everywhere?” he hummed as suddenly his hands were running down her ribs and across the planes of her stomach. Back and forth he caressed her. Going from her breasts to her hips and thighs.

Yurielle arched back against him and sank lower in the water. Her breath hitching as she allowed him to explore her body. Soon his fingers began to caress and play between her legs. “Yes Raistlin...” she moaned, her fingers gripping the sides of the tub. “Good.”

Golden fingers played with that spot that caused her to whimper. “Good here?”

“Yes!” Yurielle closed her eyes, enjoying his touch.

His fingers lowered down along her folds to her opening. “Here?” he pressed his lips to her neck as he slid one long finger into her.

Yurielle gave a small, surprised gasp.

Raistlin froze. “Does it hurt? I'll stop if you're uncomfortable...”

“No...” raising her mouth and turning her head Yurielle eagerly worked the flesh of his neck with her lips. “It's _good_. Let's have another lesson.... shall we?” she breathed hotly against his skin.

“Yes my Shalafi.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you audria for the chapter name this week! Your comment on the last chapter just fit so perfectly I had to use it! :)
> 
> Here is the song from the beginning of the chapter.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bl1AXYOseuY
> 
> I feel it captures pretty well what Yurielle was feeling after finally breaking through with Raistlin. I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. We're finally getting to the romance part of the story. However, we're still in for quite the wild ride! :D


	39. The Touch of Takhisis

Yurielle jerked awake and her eyes sprung open. Looking around the dimly lit room, she found herself laying in a large four-poster bed. The momentary confusion was quickly banished when she realized through her fuzzy haze that it was Raistlin's bed. The huge, comfortable surface was lavishly covered in warm blankets, furs, and plush pillows and sat within the den of the most powerful archmage on Krynn. She was deep within his cursed, dark Tower, one of the most feared places on the planet, yet Yurielle was so happy and content that her heart felt as if it would burst at any moment.

Solinari's silver light streamed through the window along the wall near the hearth where the fire had burned down low signaling that hours had passed since they had finally made it to his bed. Through her half asleep haze Yurielle recalled the last few precious hours that she had spent with the archmage. Raistlin had worked her into a frenzy within the bathwater with his fingers before once more claiming her, this time against the side of the tub.

It had been awkward in the small space but their needy cries had reverberated through the room and had left them pleasantly soaked like half-drowned cats. Yurielle had to practically hold Raistlin up so that he didn't actually drown until he could catch his breath once more after he had brought them both to another shattering release.

Afterward, once finally dried off and settled on top of his large and ridiculously expensive bed, they saw they had to add a few bruised knees to her rug burned back as he eventually got around to tending to her with the healing ointment.

Raistlin's careful hands on her skin as he treated her wounds had itself turned into another bout of kissing and exploring. Half asleep and near unconscious from their continued sexual play and long emotional day, they then made slow and lazy love within his private and secret room.

Yurielle sighed blissfully at the memory of their tangled legs and arms. How his metallic golden body had shone in the firelight. How the flickering flames had made their silhouettes dance along the books and magical objects that lined the walls. She couldn't have imagined that there could exist another room on all of Krynn that could top Raistlin's study.

But she was wrong.

His bedchambers reflected Raistlin's personality with his choice of books and items that lay scattered about. Everything about this room was a fascinating glimpse into his mind and Yurielle could not wait until he allowed her to explore it. Though that wouldn't happen until he released the wards and protective barriers around certain items and shelves. Yurielle found it both amusing and alluring that the mage, even in the grip of passion, was more than happy to discuss the magic that surrounded them in his room. But the archmage did not have the strength after their lovemaking to lift his head much less cast the complex spells to undo the barriers and so, as he had warned her in order to keep her safe, her curiosity would just have to wait to be sated.

However, she could still look and had done so before drifting off to sleep and was doing it now again while she absorbed this strange, yet wonderful turn in her life. There were spellbooks around her of course, mostly those that he insisted be kept close at hand - like those written by Fistandantilus - that were heavily warded. Also, to her delight, the recognized the titles of several story books and tomes filled with poems as well as items laying around that the archmage seemed to hold more dearly than the rest. Her eyes fell on a small orb that sat perched on the mantel, resting on an ornate golden stand carved in the likeness of interwoven dragons. Yurielle felt great magic billow from the orb even though it seemed quiet and dormant at the moment.

Making a mental note to ask him about it later, Yurielle let her mind again float back to the hours before sleep had claimed her.

Raistlin had been warmth and heat all around her and inside of her. Keenly she remembered how he had sighed her name as they made love and how his body enveloped hers so perfectly she marveled at how they fit together. She could still hear his low and quiet voice that was like silk in her ears as they had whispered to one another. The memory of how she lay within the white curtain of his hair and gazed up into those cursed eyes while he made gentle love to her would be forever etched in her mind and locked in her heart.

As she recalled this, Yurielle's body still tingled where his mouth had explored her skin. She wanted so badly to taste him, wanted so badly to lavish him with the same affections that he showed her. But Raistlin was possessive and hungry for her, eager to please her, and she had been all too happy to let him master his new craft, this new art he seemed so adept at.

But alas they weren't able to finish their last exploration before they both began to doze against one another. Completely spent and exhausted, they no longer could ignore their need for sleep. Especially Raistlin, who had all but fallen unconscious more than once from repeatedly putting his body through exertions that he was not used to. Possessive and hungry he may be, Yurielle knew that his strength could only last so long and it had ran out long before they had even crawled onto his bed.

Sighing contentedly against his neck, Yurielle had moved to slide herself out from under a half asleep Raistlin. He protested quietly, murmuring incoherently as he collapsed down onto the bed beside her. His hair fanned around his head as he landed and it shimmered like new snow in the moonlight while his metallic skin gleamed pale and soft. The only vibrant color to him came from the gold that had shone behind his half lidded eyes.

In that moment he was ethereal and perfect to Yurielle.

“Sleep my Darkness...” she had said dreamily to him as she curled up beside him.

Raistlin gathered her to his body, holding her close to him. Yurielle faintly heard him whisper, “My Star...” as she felt herself fall into a contented sleep, finally wrapped in the golden silk of his arms.

That had been hours ago, and still her body was on fire from his touch, still she yearned to learn him more. Waking up fully now, she could keenly feel the desire and need for him tingling deep in her abdomen and between her legs.

Well, there was no time like the present.

Stretching in the sheets she felt around to where he had fallen asleep next to her. But the archmage was nowhere to be found. Scanning the darkness she saw a figure next to the window. It was unmoving and silent. “Raistlin?” she asked in a hushed voice.

No answer.

Rubbing her eyes she watched as the figure slowly detached itself from the surrounding blackness and come closer. A scream froze in Yurielle's throat when the shadow of the figure suddenly had five dragon heads and five sets of glowing red eyes within the mass of darkness.

“.....Hello again my dear....” a very feminine voice cooed at her as four of the heads suddenly faded away, leaving just one that melted into the form of a woman’s as the figure entered the ring of light around the bed. The woman had corpse white skin, long raven black hair and blood red eyes. Upon her head she wore a crown of black jewels that flared with every color and yet of none while on her body she wore a transparent gown of glittering smoke that shifted around her body. The effect of the dancing darkness offered the viewer tantalizing glimpses of the marble flesh beneath.

She was terrifyingly cold and beautiful.

“So my child... you have awoken the heart of the black robed mage.” The woman's movements were sensual as she crawled up on the bed with Yurielle, her clawed hands on either side of the mortal woman who lay there frozen and trembling. The dress of shadows seemed to writhe around her perfect form as she sat there, staring at Yurielle with eternal eyes.

“Takhisis...” Yurielle breathed in horror.

“How did you do it sweet girl?” the Goddess mewled and pressed a hand on Yurielle's naked form right above her left breast up along her shoulder. Vaguely Yurielle was aware that all the sheets were gone and she was laying on a marble slab that darkened to blood red. “Do you know how often I have tempted our dear Raistlin? How many times that he has spurned me?”

Yurielle's body trembled where the Goddess caressed her. Her touch was cold as ice but it burned terribly. It felt as if she was being immolated from the inside out by divine fire.

“You are the same as all women,” Takhisis was saying. “Your body is fine and soft, supple but... nothing truly unique or special....” those red eyes tore into Yurielle's very soul as she removed her hand and then inspected it as a vain woman checks on whether or not she damaged a nail from touching something unseemly.

Once finished with that task those burning eyes flicked back to Yurielle. “Where do you come from?” Those eyes then seemed to search through Yurielle's life, picking the threads apart in the way only a god can. “You are a mortal but... within you, both the arcane and wild magics dance together in a strange harmony. Never before has this happened. Never before has the wild manifested so strongly. It's so primal and raw within you... for Krynn has never had such a will as now in this timeline... _Why_?”

The Goddess lifted her own leg then and arched it over Yurielle. None to carefully she sat herself on top of Yurielle's thighs as if the mortal were just another chair. “Tell me, chosen of Krynn... receiver of the wild gift... wielder of the arcane,” her voice was light and sensual as she carelessly sat down, “how did you thaw his ice cold heart? I would really like to know your secret!”

Yurielle convulsed silently under the playful wrath of the Goddess. She was unable to form words through a throat that was so tight with terror that she could barely draw breath.

“I should thank you though,” the divine being ran her hands along Yurielle's side, raking her nails along the flesh, thin wells of blood bloomed along Yurielle's skin. “Do you know he had planned to supplant me? To enter the Abyss and kill me?” she scoffed and pressed that hand against Yurielle's right hip.

Pain flared, the sting and burning of it seemed to fill Yurielle's veins as if Takhisis was melting the skin right off of her body. The marble beneath them turned black.

“He is ambitious, our dear Raistlin,” the Goddess continued, completely in control. “He had plans to become a God! Do you want to know that he succeeded! Can you believe it?!” Takhisis scoffed, offended at the very idea.

“Somehow we know this... somehow, on this new timeline that we have found ourselves, we have this memory. The path is still there, still being walked down even though this time, you are here. So much is still the same yet there are differences from that other time...”

Those eyes still had not released the poor woman, who had begun to silently sob, unable to feel her magic or call on it to dispel her fear. Yurielle felt empty and hollow underneath the Dark Goddess, vulnerable and terribly small.

“Oh course you knew this...” Takhisis said now, musing to herself. “You were shown it in your Test.” The visage of the dark seductress pouted dramatically, her own eyes far off as if she herself was having a hard time understanding that moment they all seemed to have shared.

“You were there, as were the cousins and my own counterparts. HE was there as well...” her eyes focused back on Yurielle. “What a strange paradox we find ourselves in!” Takhisis laughed then. The sound was beautiful and terrifying. A clawed hand then pressed down beneath Yurielle's right breast along her ribs.

Yurielle thought for sure that she was dying. Yet not a single sound was uttered from her. The color of the slab brightened to a sickly green as all of her insides felt as if they were diseased and rotting.

“But there is so much that you cannot see. So much that you do not even have the ability to comprehend! Raistlin Majere walks many paths sweet Yurielle but so too, does his shadow!

“That lich of his,” Takhisis sighed, finally lifting her hand away and Yurielle felt as if the weight of the Abyss itself was removed from her. “That one too... he has always been such a naughty thorn in my side. Who would have thought that the two would have shared such a unique soul!” Those red eyes glittered.

“Raistlin Majere is truly Master of Past and Present sweet girl,” the Goddess nearly purred as if she were proud of Raistlin and the thing that had anchored itself to him. “And because of this, he has the ability to rise higher than any mortal to ever walk this planet! Can you even comprehend what I'm telling you?”

Yurielle listened to the Goddess while her heart clenched painfully. No she could not comprehend, for she felt as if she would not survive this.

“Both men want to defeat me! One in the past, one in the present. Both united now within the same body...” The Goddess shook her head and ran her hand down along the mortals left arm. Coming to Yurielle's forearm, Takhisis grasped it and squeezed painfully. It felt to Yurielle as if lightning flooded through her body. The slab beneath her flared to blue.

“Such a simple, one track mindset they both share. Such a unique, powerful soul... it is no wonder that the two combined became a god!” Takhisis stated with a shrug of her porcelain shoulders, the wispy silken darkness of her gown fell along her flesh, glittering with all colors and yet of none.

“It won't happen...” the mortal woman managed to say through her terror and pain.

“No indeed it won't silly girl. At least... Not in the way that it may have when he allowed you to see him in your Test! For that version no longer exists!” Takhisis laughed again, the sound was maniacal and hot, like the rumbling of a thousand crazy voices all laughing at once.

“You know that now we are within an untrod path dear Yurielle? All because this time, you chose to balance and our mage met you in a dark Library and you somehow seduced him.” The goddess sighed dramatically. “I have tried for so long to lure the Hourglass Mage into my web. Especially after he betrayed me and sealed me within the Abyss.” Those red eyes flared and the four shadowy heads flashed into existence for a moment and screamed their rage into the night before fading a heartbeat later.

“No matter...” Takhisis purred. “The game that I have played with his soul has been going on for centuries. I can be patient a while longer. Especially now that his soul is in two places. It makes the dance ever so much more fun!”

Yurielle couldn't think, she couldn’t breathe. Blackness edged her vision and silently she prayed for death. Anything to end this torture. But nothing and no one, god or mortal, came to her rescue. Nuitari, Solinari, and Lunitari had abandoned her. Paladine and all the gods of Light were silent. Her wild magic was nowhere to be felt. Even Raistlin was not at her side.

Yurielle was utterly, terribly alone within the coil of Takhisis.

“Did you know that as a God, our dearest Raistlin could not create life because he had no heart?” Takhisis stated suddenly. “He would forever writhe in his loneliness, never knowing the sound of another soul after he destroyed the world and all the rest of the pantheon. It is truly a marvel to behold!”

She traced a finger over Yurielle's temple then and, with a wickedly dark smile, she forced the images into her brain. Yurielle could not even scream as white hot pain seared through her. The images broke Yurielle's heart and ripped through her soul with an agony she never thought possible.

The mortal woman saw it all; saw the terrible force that was Raistlin Majere with no heart. She saw as he walked a path of darkness that brought the end to everything around him. Much of it made no sense, like the woman in white next to him or the man that guarded him. It didn't matter who they were, or what their purpose was in that timeline, for so very quickly Raistlin himself destroyed them and Yurielle watched the man she loved descend completely into madness.

Those eyes of his, ones that only hours ago had been so very loving and vulnerable, were hard and bitter within this vision as they killed and destroyed anyone and anything that stood in his way. The face she had grown to cherish was twisted into a mockery of what it was now as he eventually laid low the gods before him and took their essence into his own being.

The Raistlin Majere in the image within Yurielle's mind was surrounded by a thick, oily blackness that was darker than the blackest robes. The sparks she knew as his magic that were once gold were now corrupted, twisted and sucking in all life and magic in a whirling void of black and sickly green as they danced around him. And his magic, his magic was unlike anything imaginable. With every absorption into himself, this version of Raistlin became more and more unstoppable as the magic he unleashed tore the world apart.

He had become a god of destruction, warping time and space around himself.

Yurielle then understood fully. All the missing pieces from her Test snapped into place. The final shroud fell away and without it she saw and understood, even if Takhisis did not.

Yes she had seen Raistlin as a god and he had been there beside her during her Test of High Sorcery. It truly had been him that she had seen! Yet it was not the same Raistlin that she had come to love. The Raistlin that had been in the background during her Test as the gods asked her to walk beside the mortal man had been one of ultimate destruction and death.

And Yurielle realized that it had been Raistlin as this terrifying god that had been the force that was destroying her, it was he that was pulling her apart and it was he that had shattered her into countless pieces and flung her essence of magic into the river of time. Her, Yurielle, the mage that should not exist, was part of the spark of ambient magic that the God of Nothing had found.

There was no breath in her body as the image of a golden serpent, in the shape of an hourglass, writhed endlessly in the void, destroying all life and magic. Nothing could withstand the black hole that was where the god's heart should have been. Nothing was able to escape the churning and endless devouring.

Not even himself.

Not even the last spark of ambient magic.

Raistlin, the God of Destruction, had found it. He discovered the very last spark in existence, and with it, this paradox was created. He had used his godly ability after crushing it to cause countless realities and timelines to form; all of them flowing through the Hourglass God. Yurielle's soul trembled with more awe at this fact than she did laying beneath the Goddess above her.

Raistlin had designed it all. Her Test, her existence, the reason the ambient was again wielded by mortals on Krynn.

No, not Raistlin. It had been this terrible Hourglass God that had willed it; had willed everything. Through the endless weaving timelines that he forged with his will, like the rivers she had seen flow out of her in her Test, in only ONE of them she had been born because of that shattered spark and from that timeline flowed the ambient magic back to Krynn. All she had to do during her Test was choose.

She _had_ chosen. Her choice was to stand with the mortal Raistlin and had fallen in love with him. Her path with him would bring back balance by way of light through the darkness.

Then why this pain, this agony, and this punishment?

Even Takhisis said that this version of the god Raistlin became no longer existed. But yet Yurielle was still forced to watch what had happened to him and what he did. Takhisis wanted her to see the vast evil the man she loved was capable of.

But, through the horror and the pain in these images and memories from her Test, Yurielle could hear one small sentence being whispered to her from her own memory. The voice was not from this vision the goddess was forcing on her. This voice was vast and eternal, filled with pain and agony, of anger and bitterness, but also of eternal loneliness and longing. _'I'm sorry...'_

Yurielle knew then that Raistlin had known, he had SEEN that he needed the spark of magic that would, at some point, birth Yurielle upon Krynn. He needed the ambient magic that she would carry through this one timeline to try and save himself. How this would be so, Yurielle could not comprehend. But the gods must know, for why would they have even asked her to help him in the first place?

Tears fell from her eyes and floated up around herself and the goddess like stars in a empty void of nothingness.

Takhisis lifted herself up and sat above Yurielle now. “Yes dear child,” her eyes bore into the woman's soul, knowing her thoughts. “ _That_ Raistlin is gone. So why then, am I here? Why even bother with the likes of you?” Gently she pressed a hand along the woman's left side. The slab flared white while terrible cold filled Yurielle's insides as the goddess increased the pressure there.

“Know this, sweet wild Yurielle,” Takhisis stated icily. “You may have given the serpent back his heart. But the world may be in _more_ danger yet because of it!”

Yurielle stared into those endless divine eyes, unable to breathe, unable to think, her heart shattering into a thousand pieces because of the images she was forced to see. The man she loved so dearly... Yurielle could see the shadow behind him that was now being cast because of her own light. It was deep and dark, filled with vile hate and anger. The brighter her love shone around him, the darker the shadow grew until all light was sucked into the void.

She realized then, as she stared into those endless eyes above her, unable to look away, that there was no way she could ever stop such a force. Yes Raistlin Majere was walking a new path now beside her, but with this new understanding, Yurielle saw that perhaps something even more terrible could be born now. Even as she watched, it seemed as though there were two Raistlin's now. One bathed in golden light, the other, in dark oily shadow.

It didn't make sense.

“This new future is still just as uncertain. Destiny can never truly be avoided! He may have a heart now but the shadow Raistlin Majere still casts is darker yet because of what you have sparked within him!” Takhisis stated, knowing the mortals thoughts. “Your bright light deepens the darkness on this world.”

Those terrible eyes flayed Yurielle open and left her trembling before the might of this Dark Temptress. She suddenly much preferred the crushing and ripping that she had endured under the wrath of the Hourglass God over this cruel slow torment of Takhisis.

“Rest assured,” Takhisis continued, “the whole of the pantheon is waiting with baited breath as to what will happen next. You were charged in balancing the magic because the weave has become unstable in this new timeline as a result of his meddling. But you were also charged with saving His soul. That timeline and that God are gone but he gave the rest of us the memories and the knowledge of how to shape THIS timeline to prevent his outcome from coming to pass.”

Takhisis's face twisted horribly. “He thought that, once you agreed to be the voice for Krynn and for the ambient magic that this new timeline your pact birthed would end his suffering... But you will still fail, sweet girl who should not exist. The wheel of fate is always turning and reshaping itself. There is no stopping it!”

Leaning down right over Yurielle's face, the sickly breath of the goddess wafted over her. The shadows of her dress surrounded her and seemed to swallow all of her light.

When next the Goddess spoke, her voice was like the chanting of a legion of death and darkness, like a horde of dragons all screaming at once. “Past and Present... Ascended soul or mortal man, Raistlin Majere is MINE!” those blood red eyes flared and suddenly the tears the mortal had cried coalesced into the constellation of the goddess that then flashed above high them. The pinpoints of light exploded around them and rained down like shards of glittering glass, shining with all colors and of none.

Yurielle finally screamed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takhisis Dance – by Dargaard  
> This instrumental song perfectly captures the way the Dark Goddess weaves her intrigue and power into a seductive dance of death. Just wanted to put a link here in case you have never heard it as it is worth a listen.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGQXOYvD4rE
> 
>  
> 
> Again, thank you all for reading! :)


	40. The Timeline That Once Was

Raistlin was torn from blissful sleep by a blood curdling shriek. The sound ripped at his soul and pierced through his brain. He nearly fell out of bed in his haste to get away from it and to get away from the sudden and violent thrashing next to him. It took him a heartbeat to realize the scream came from Yurielle and it was she who thrashed. The air around them sparked with her wild magic; in her uncontrolled terror, she had released a storm of chaos inside his chambers.

Wind whirled around the room, sending objects flying. Sparks of electricity danced on her skin as she screamed in a pitch that froze his blood. It did the opposite of what her singing did. Instead of her voice making his blood soar, it was as if her terrified screaming would drive him insane. Dread and cold terror filled the usually calm Raistlin and he was convinced his brain would burst as her wailing grew even wilder.

The archmage jumped on top of the convulsing Yurielle, pinned her down and grabbed a hold of her in order to restrain her hands against her sides, fearing she'd begin casting spells. “Yurielle!” he yelled above the torrent she was summoning. “Yurielle STOP!”

“Raistlin!!” she screamed in terror. Her eyes were wide but the woman was not seeing him as she fought against the nightmare in her mind.

His head began to ache as her keening rose higher, piercing his brain. Finally Raistlin was forced to cover her mouth with his hand in an attempt to silence her.

Yurielle only thrashed harder, nearly throwing them both off of the bed. It was only sheer desperation to help her that kept Raistlin on top of her. She managed to free her mouth and Raistlin shoved his wrist into it when she took another breath to scream. Yurielle bit down hard on his skin, drawing blood. But thankfully it muffled the shattering sound that she was making, enabling Raistlin to think again.

“Yurielle!” he breathed, terror for her clenching his heart. “Please Yurielle! Come back to me!” he called to her next to her ear. “Yurielle my love, my Star... Please... come back. Don't fade. I need you!” the words tumbled out of him as he voiced his fears to her. He had no idea what was happening and he could only watch helplessly as her glassy eyes still did not see him.

“Don't leave me alone here. I need your light... I need your love! Please my Yuri....” Tears choked him. “I can't exist without you!” he sobbed, not even aware of what he was saying as he pleaded with her to come back from the place that had taken her.

Over and over Raistlin begged his Star to return to him. Finally, his words seemed to sink in as her sounds began to slowly quiet. Her indigo irises snapped to meet his and her eyes blinked. All of a sudden there was recognition in them and Raistlin was able to draw his wrist out of her mouth, wincing as her teeth let go of him.

Waterfalls of tears fell from her beautiful eyes. “Raist...lin....?” she sobbed.

“Yurielle,” Raistlin gathered her into his arms, feeling her tremble, feeling himself tremble. “By the gods! What happened?”

“I... I....” she grasped at him, holding him. Yurielle pulled Raistlin down on top of her to shield herself with his body, trying to hide from whatever was after her.

Raistlin just held her, his hot skin around her, protecting her. His heart was still trying to claw through his throat. “Yurielle...” he whispered. “I'm here,” he reassured her and tried to smooth her hair away from her sweat slick face.

The woman sobbed for many more minutes before finally any semblance of calm returned, though Yurielle was still quivering and hiccuping so hard that she could barely breathe. Finally Raistlin rolled off of her and pulled her against his side, stroking her back, trying anything to soothe her as he kissed her face, her head, her neck to try and calm her.

After an eternity she came back to him. “Raistlin...?” she croaked.

“What is it my sweet Yurielle? By the dark moon what in the Abyss scares you so?”

“Not the Abyss! No! She was here!” she sobbed in reply, her voice hoarse and strained. “Gods she touched me!” She looked down at herself and began to claw and scratch at her skin. “Get her off me!”

Hourglass eyes looked at her body and Raistlin finally noticed red, raised hand shaped marks on her flesh. “Yurielle stop it!” He grasped her wrists to stop her from raking herself bloody. By now she was worn out and weak from her fit and she didn’t resist as he held her arms away from her naked form so that he could better inspect her. “WHO touched you?” Raistlin knew that he hadn't made those marks and they had not been there a few hours ago. The welts began to darken into deep painful bruises even as he asked the question.

Five hand prints blossomed on her body before his eyes.

“NO!” he growled, white hot rage billowing from him.

Yurielle tried to sit up and he moved to allow it but kept hold of her wrists, more gently this time. “Takhisis.... I saw her.... she... she was here,” indigo eyes darted fearfully around the room.

It was normal, just the way it had been when they had finally settled down into the covers. However the sheets were now shredded, books had fallen from most of the shelves, and the table near the wall had been flung onto its side. Papers still fluttered slowly to the floor as she finally released the magic she didn't know she was still holding.

“What did she say? What did she want?” That same look of panic filled Raistlin face as the night his ward had turned a strip of her perfect skin to rotting flesh in his eyes. “Why come to you?”

Yurielle pulled her hands from him. Raistlin released her and she rubbed her eyes, trying to dispel the visage of the Dark Goddess from her brain. “This is all my fault...” she sobbed and swallowed, tasting his blood in her mouth. Wiping her lips with her hand, it came away red and that is when she saw his wrist. “What?!?” Slender fingers took his arm. “What happened? Did I....?”

“Only you would put me above your pain Yurielle,” Raistlin ripped a piece of shredded sheet and bound his forearm. “I had to get you to stop screaming. I was willing to do anything short of choking you...” he blanched at the memory of watching helpless as Fistandantilus had done just that.

“I'll be fine,” he quickly finished, his hands going back to her face, cradling her and forcing her to look at him. “Now tell me please! What did the Goddess want with you? How could this possibly be your fault?”

Tears again welled in those eyes, they were red and swollen, puffy and painful looking. “She said... she said the timeline is different! You became a god! I knew this! I've seen it because you were there in my Test!” Yurielle rambled, her words strained. “There among the stars! They've seen you succeed but... we're in a new future she said.... I gave the serpent back his heart... Raistlin...”

Raistlin could not comprehend anything that Yurielle was saying, none of it made sense to him. He sat frozen, remembering the words that Astinus had spoken on that first day that he had met Yurielle. The Chronicler had also said that the timeline had shifted.

It was because of Yurielle. Once again Raistlin stared at her. He didn't understand how loving her shifted everything and had brought forth the ire of a Goddess.

“Calm, Yurielle,” Raistlin soothed, running his hands softly down her arms. “Breathe... that's it,” he spoke gently as she tried her best to obey him. After a few moments she had gained some semblance of quiet. “Now slowly, what did she say to you?” he patiently asked once more.

“She said that the world may be in more danger because you love me... because you have a heart again. But she said I can't save you... Your shadow is too deep! I saw it! That deep horrible shadow!” Her eyes grew wide and tears gathered on her lashes, sparkling in the low light of the room.

“I realized then,” her lip trembled, “that I can't balance the magic... And she said that you belong to her! Your soul is hers!” Yurielle spoke brokenly, her voice cracking and squeaking the longer she talked. All calm she had managed a moment ago began to unravel as she sobbed and squeezed her eyes shut, sending those droplets of tears down her face.

The words were tumbling out of her now, rambling and almost incoherent. “She showed me things Raistlin... She showed me when you defeated her in that other timeline. As a god you would have destroyed all life! Unable to create more you devoured yourself in the void for all eternity,” Yurielle cried, only now her tears were for him. “Raistlin... I saw you. You were so alone!” her voice was fading fast, raw and grating. “It _was_ you.. there in my Test! That little tiny gold light! Here in my heart!” She folded her hands over her breast. “Gods, Raistlin, how did I not realize!”

Her rambling quickly faded beneath the rush of blood to the archmage's ears. His mouth had gone dry, recalling his own visions. He had indeed become a god. Gut rolling inside of him he tasted bile but forced it back down. “A serpent forever eating its own tail... left in a void of eternal loneliness...”

“Yes...” she held his face now in return; her voice was thin and broken as she forced the word out.

Raistlin stared at her. His body had gone completely numb. He believed her words and knew that she would never lie to him. But he had to see for himself. “Show me, Yurielle,” he stated. “I need to see for myself. May I peer into your mind?”

Her glassy eyes widened for a fraction of a heartbeat but she quickly nodded.

Carefully Raistlin laid both of his hands on either side of her face. “I know it's hard,” he soothed softly, “to think about what she showed you. But please Yurielle,” he was looking deeply into the depths of her eyes, “bring the memory back through your thoughts. I am here with you. Nothing will harm you again. I promise.”

She whimpered slightly but nodded again. “I trust you.” Closing her eyes Yurielle took one long, shuddering breath before opening them again as she felt Raistlin's magic begin to envelope her.

It would have been pleasurable, to be surrounded and cradled by his power. But Yurielle felt herself recoil instinctively as she gazed into his eyes. They were the same as those cursed hourglass eyes of a terrifying God. The one that had been in the background of her Test, the one that was pulling her apart, the one that had destroyed her...

NO! Yurielle reminded herself as she felt herself be pulled deep into the molten depths of the archmage's gaze. This was _her_ Raistlin. She had nothing to fear from this mortal man that she loved. Opening herself up fully, she allowed every horrifying image from the vision to flow from her mind into his.

Through Yurielle's eyes, Raistlin saw it then. He saw the being that he was capable of becoming. Powerful in ways he only dreamed of, Raistlin Majere watched the path he took as he ascended to godhood.

But it had all been at such a cost...

He watched the flood of images that vaguely made sense to his mind. He saw himself beside a woman dressed in white; her long black hair was wavy and soft. Idly he wondered who she was and why she was with him in this timeline. Then, as the events unfolded, he realized that she was the key. This cleric of Paladine was what Raistlin had been trying to research when he had stumbled upon Yurielle in the Library. This holy woman was what he would have needed in order to open the doorway to the Abyss.

Suddenly it seemed so obvious to him. A cleric of pure good allied with a black robe of evil. Only then could the door to the Abyss be opened. Only then could one enter and defeat Takhisis.

Raistlin had wanted to know this secret once. But, now that he did, he wanted it out of his head forever. He pitied this poor creature that he had lured to follow him. What had he done to convince her to walk beside him?

Lie and manipulate her, most likely.

Raistlin continued to watch the memories that the Dark Goddess had flooded into Yurielle's mind. He then saw that beside him and this woman also stood a man. At first the man was grotesquely overweight but soon he had reshaped himself to the image of a splendid warrior through battles and tests of strength within Istar's gladiator arena.

It was, of course, Caramon.

The sting of seeing his twin follow him down this disastrous path made Raistlin's gut twist. But the archmage couldn't dwell on this fact as Yurielle continued the memory through her perfect recollection.

Raistlin watched as the blackness around this other version of him deepened. He watched as he, this woman and his brother traveled through the flow of time. He watched as he actually faced Fistandantilus and absorbed the essence of the withered old man into himself back in the past, in the time before the Cataclysm. Raistlin tried to fully understand it, hoping that somehow he could glean a way to defeat the archlich in _this_ timeline.

Perhaps that was what needed to be done? To travel backwards to where Fistandantilus was still alive? He would file that possibility away for now. He couldn't think about it long for soon Raistlin saw the Kingpriest in his paranoid vanity and wanted to scream at the image of himself standing beside this holy man. For how were his own actions so different than what the Kingpriest had done? Couldn't his other version see this?

But then Raistlin realized. He hadn't made demands of the gods.

No.

He simply killed them and absorbed them.

All too soon, one by one, the eternal beings fell to the might that he became in this lost timeline and Raistlin did not recognize the man he twisted into. His own face stared back at him, contorted with rage and hate as he laid low all that stood in his way. Eventually his twin and the woman that had followed him into the Abyss also fell by his own hand.

Horror flooded Raistlin at this. He watched as he coldly destroyed both of them once he no longer needed them. Ice filled his gullet, for this was something he had done many times in his life. He willingly used those around him until he had no use for them any longer.

Raistlin tried to tell himself that this was because of Fistandantilus. The lich that this version of himself had fully joined and absorbed into his being was far, far darker than what he himself currently was. But Raistlin realized that even before Fistandantilus he had done such a thing. This trait of his was something he had resorted to many times during his life. The lich within him brought it out farther and enhanced it, twisted it into a cruelness he had not yet achieved in this timeline.

However, he also realized that he had the capacity to recognize this flaw, just as he was now. A small glimmer of hope bloomed in his heart at this. He was not lost yet. And now he had Yurielle beside him. She would help him. No, she was already helping him...

The archmage found that he was disgusted by this other version of himself. This person that he had become in this timeline was something that repulsed him. Raistlin could not see himself doing these things anymore. The realization made him pause slightly for he knew in that moment just how powerful Yurielle's love was.

Because of her, all of these events would never come to pass.

The memories continued in fragmented blurs as Yurielle began to tremble in his hands. Raistlin knew then that the worst was yet to come. Indeed, once Takhisis was felled by him, a magical maelstrom unlike anything he had ever heard of began to grow upon Krynn. As each god fell, the storm grew until it engulfed the whole of the planet.

Raistlin watched himself kill every god and with each victory, more of him was lost.

When he killed Solinari, the moons above the planet shattered. They rained debris down upon the world for a year while Raistlin continued his crusade and Krynn was ravaged by the ever growing magical maelstrom. Hundreds upon thousands of beings upon Krynn died everyday just from the storm alone.

But the horrors didn't end there. Raistlin watched as places and things he still cherished began to wither and die. Palanthas crumbled to ashes; Solace with its beautiful trees withered away and was consumed in the chaos. The Towers of High Sorcery fell and were destroyed, their inhabitants unable to hold at bay the power of Raistlin and his hordes of summoned creatures. Raistlin watched as he took his revenge on the wizards and on Par-Salian himself, who was still alive in this timeline, and watched how he tormented them all and twisted them, adding to his legion of minions.

One by one the gods of Krynn fell.

And, with each divine death, that god's constellation winked out and went forever dark. The night sky began to empty of its lights and the power of the defeated god was absorbed into this new god and with each gain, a new star within an Hourglass constellation flared into existence.

It was morbidly fascinating to witness.

Lastly, Raistlin watched himself as a god battle Paladine and his legion of holy angels and warriors. The battle was long and terrible, rending both heaven and earth and splitting the fabric of the planes around Krynn, warping them beyond repair. Raistlin's own creations and minions poured through the battlefield, devouring all that fell. He saw himself drive a blade of magical void energy through the visage of the Holy Warrior. Paladine's helm fell away as he died and Raistlin met the eyes of Fizban. He watched as those eternal eyes went dark.

Victory was his and then, there was nothing.

Nothing except the smothering, all consuming silence.

He was alone.

The god that he had become had devoured everything, Krynn and anything remaining on the desecrated shell. Any being or minion that Raistlin had summoned from the Abyss and planes beyond, EVERYTHING, he destroyed and devoured until it was only him.

Only himself and that lich within him.

Raistlin's breath began to come in short gasps. He had seen this before; had experienced it in his own visions. He would become the golden serpent devouring himself; forever churning in the nothingness as the ashes of Krynn floated around him.

“NO!” the archmage cried and tore his hands from the sides of Yurielle's face, breaking the spell.

Likewise Yurielle cried out. But her pain was for Raistlin's pain. Now it was her turn to grasp his face, pulling him back to look at her again. “Never do that Raistlin!” Her voice was breaking as she spoke. “ _Please_ don’t become that! Be as cynical as you want. Be as cold and distant as you need to be! Be as EVIL as you want... I don't care! Just don't let that happen to yourself!” She was sobbing again. “Your soul is too precious to me to lose you that way! You don't belong to her, you belong to me!”

Despite everything, Raistlin couldn't help but scoff. “I destroyed the world and it's my soul you worry over...” He shook his head. “Gods you must love me.”

“I do Raistlin...” she said, her beautiful voice was raw, she could barely talk now. “I have never and _will_ never lie to you! I saw... I saw it in my Test but its so hard to understand! Somehow the god you became was there! You were destroying me! Pulling me apart! Gods Raistlin it hurt so much but I wanted it so badly...”

Raistlin went rigid. His eyes seemed unfocused as he thought of his own nightmares. Of that tiny spark he had reached desperately for after so long of nothing. That little fluttering light filled with love and warmth.

Something told him they were connected, her vision and his. There was a significance there that he could not even try to grasp in this moment. For in this moment, none of that mattered. Not him as a god, not the brilliant spark that she was.

All that mattered was that she loved him and he loved her. And somehow, that was changing everything because that gnawing void within him had been eradicated by her light. The light that he had found as a god...

Gathering Yurielle against his body Raistlin held her and as he did, he felt that new blissful warmth within his chest.

He was no longer afraid of it and in awe he realized that it was his heart! Not the physical organ that beat feebly within his frail body; _this_ warmth was the very beating of his existence, the essence of who and what he was. It had been dormant for so many years... since his own Test.

Since Fistandantilus.

“I have a heart again,” he commented quietly. “So that's what this feeling is...”

“Your heart?” Yurielle shook her head, not understanding. Her hands ran over his chest as she looked into his face while he thought.

“You did awaken it Yurielle,” he told her, for he knew that it had awoken when she had declared her love for him and he accepted it and decided to return it. “It beats fiercely for you and you alone because you are right; I belong to you just as you are mine. Nothing will ever take you from me. Not even a god,” he vowed; his golden eyes hardening. “That bitch will never touch you again I swear it!”

“What do we do now? What does this all mean?” she asked, her voice nearly gone. She could only breathe the words out now.

Raistlin wondered how badly she had damaged that lovely voice with her screaming. His head ached terribly as he took in the sight of his destroyed bed chambers. Her strange magic apparently could work in ways that he hadn't even guessed.

“We walk together Yurielle,” he echoed her earlier statement back to her as he gathered her fully to himself. “That's what this means.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the events of Raistlin's dark ascension were not entirely of my making. I pulled some ideas from the old 2005 D&D Dragonlance Campaign book - Legends of the Twins. In it, beginning on page 126 it details what happens on the days in which Raistlin begins to slay the gods. As I mentioned in my story, it is horribly fascinating to read. I honestly got goosebumps as I did so.  
> He killed Takhisis on Third Day, Fifthmonth, 356 AC and Krynn is gripped by terror for two more years before Raistlin kills the last remaining god Paladine. By then, much of Krynn is utterly destroyed by the magical maelstrom and most of its inhabitants are dead. There are more details that give me chills, I won't go into detail but another event I'd like to mention (just to hammer home how messed up the end of Krynn was) is at one point the magical maelstrom reverses over the Blood Sea of Istar, pulling the water into the sky making it rain 'blood' over the world.  
> The apocalypse brought on by Raistlin is horrifying to be sure but for me, the image of the constellations winking out only to have another star in Raistlin's own Hourglass flare into existence... *shudders* THAT image was very powerful and I wanted to include it somehow in my own story as well as a few of the other details.  
> I hope that little bit of information was as fascinating for you as it was to me!  
> For reference, I have copied the timeline and added it to my "Thoughts and Discussions" page. Here is the link if you wish to see it  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/17952665/chapters/47296573


	41. Agony and Light

It was clear within hours just how painful the bruises on Yurielle's flesh would be. Raistlin left the bedchamber for a few minutes and returned to find her curled up in a fetal position, crying silently on the floor.

“Yuri!” He nearly dropped the clothes he had brought from her room when he saw the state she was in. Throwing them carelessly on the bed, he rushed to her side.

“What's wrong?” Kneeling beside her, his eyes widened at how the marks on her body had changed in so short of time. The one along her upper chest to her shoulder had become red as flame and covered in angry blisters. He sucked in a breath as the blisters opened before his eyes and began to ooze onto her skin, only to reform and fester again. “Gods dammit!” he swore as he inspected the wound while being careful to not touch it. He could feel the heat radiating off of it by merely hovering his hand above it.

Meanwhile Yurielle could only rock back and forth where she lay on the stone floor, one of the blankets wrapped around her body in a way that both covered her and caught in her limbs. It looked as though she collapsed getting out of bed while trying to either come find him or go to the washroom.

“Yurielle!” Raistlin tried to help untangle the blanket from around her. In doing so she writhed and flailed, her mouth open in a silent scream as she rolled away from him.

She came to stop at the base of the bed, her body heaving and shuddering in agony. Now Raistlin could see clearly what the other marks looked like.

Each bruise shone with a hint of a chromatic color and each bore the power of the element the dragon was known for.

And, worst of all, each bruise hummed with curse magic. Takhisis had cursed his beloved Yurielle!

Rage flooded Raistlin's vision when he realized what the goddess had done to his Star. Every dark thought, every suppressed urge to harm an inflict pain, reared to the forefront of the archmage's mind. There would be no force in this world or the next to stop him from entering the Abyss and punishing Takhisis for this.

Caught within the coil of his anger, Raistlin barely registered the hissing laughter within the back of his skull where Fistandantilus fed him images and words to powerful spells they would need to face the god with wrath equal to her own.

“ _All paths will lead to her anyway...”_ came the faintest whisper.

A gentle brush of fingertips against his knee brought him back from the pit of rage. Blinking, he found Yurielle staring up at him, with wide eyes. The air rushed out of Raistlin's lungs when he met her eyes. The effect they had on him was like being splashed with cold water and, he realized with a glance at his clenched fists, that he had torn the blanket in his hands. Letting the ruined fabric go, he focused again on Yurielle. “She cursed you Yurielle!” he growled.

Yurielle nodded at him. Of course she knew and understood.

Raistlin carefully took her hand off his knee and held it in his. His eyes went to her chest and the horrible bruise that ran along her ribs under her right breast. This mark was dark and had a sick, green tinge to it.

“She touched you with each of her aspects... didn't she?” he asked. But he already knew it was true, for the one on her hip was black and withering and the one on her side looked frosted in white while the handprint around her forearm had blue tendrils that snaked along her arm giving the appearance that she had been struck by lightning.

Yurielle nodded, her lips trembling. When, she tried to push herself up, pain flared in her leg from mark on her hip. It felt as if thousands of needles began running through her veins making the limb unresponsive to her commands. In defeat, she sank back to the floor.

Gently Raistlin lay his hands near that bruise. One hand he placed along her inner thigh and the other over the upper curve of her rear as he whispered a counter-spell. He knew it wouldn't work, but he had to try. His heart sank when again Yurielle flinched away from him.

“I'm sorry!” he exclaimed, frustrated and horrified that he was doing nothing but hurting her more by trying to help her. “Yurielle, we need to take you to a cleric! I don't think I can undo this!” He gaped at her when she shook her head at him.

“Yurielle, we must! Only divine blessings can remove this!”

Again she shook her head; tears still fell from her eyes.

Raistlin growled and got to his feet. “This is no time to be stubborn!” he stated and grabbed the dressing gown he had taken from her room. “Please, Yurielle, let me take you to the Temple of Paladine.”

After a moment, Yurielle managed to sit up and again Raistlin couldn't stop the hiss of anger that escaped him as the morning sunlight that filtered through the window fell onto her naked form. She was so beautiful, but the touch of Takhisis had robbed Raistlin of every blissful sensation he should be feeling after sharing a night of passion with the woman he loved. Yurielle's eyes were red from her crying, her skin pale from the pain, her supple body trembling not with the pleasure Raistlin had blessed her with last night, but with the agony of this sick punishment Takhisis laid upon her.

Lowering himself back to the floor, her gown still in his hands, he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Please Yuri,” he begged. “I can't stand to see you like this.”

She pressed his hand to the side of her face before moving it to kiss his palm. Taking the robe from him, she motioned to a loose paper that still lay discarded on the floor from the magical wind she had summoned last night and made writing motions with her free hand.

Raistlin nodded and went to retrieve several sheets of paper along with a quill and a small inkwell from a drawer in his desk. By the time he returned, Yurielle had managed to put her arms through the gown and had it loosely tucked around herself, hiding the marks from both of them.

Laying the items next to her, Raistlin patiently waited for her to write out what she wanted to say. When she was finished he took the page from her and read the following: _“The pain is passing, I'll be fine.”_

“Like HELL you will be!” he growled and crumbled the page in his hand. “Yurielle, you know that the pain will keep returning. She delights in torment and any respite from the hurt will be short lived! You need to be healed...”

She was already writing more, the end of the quill scratching furiously against the paper.

Now her message read: _“NO! I won't risk her returning to do this again to me OR to you!”_

Raistlin raised his eyes from the page to find her staring at him. Her jaw was set in that stubborn way when her mind was made up. “Yurielle...” he stopped when she shook her head at him furiously, her auburn hair flashing red in the morning light.

Again she began to write: _“I'm feeling much better. Help me up so I can get dressed.”_

Sighing reluctantly, Raistlin did as she asked. Carefully the archmage helped her to her feet and assisted her in putting her robe on the rest of the way. “This isn't fair,” he grumbled quietly as he pulled the soft cloth up her arm when she had a hard time reaching back for it with her burnt shoulder.

Yurielle tilted her head to the side and gave him a questioning look.

She looked so pretty in the soft morning light, even with red rimmed eyes and tear streaked face, that it smote his new heart.

“The gods mock me whenever I get a scrap of happiness,” he answered as he gently wiped the hair away that was sticking to her damp cheeks. He helped her to loosely tie the sash around her waist. That done he wanted to rest his hand on her hips and hold her, but he knew it would be painful and so he dropped it uselessly to his side.

Yurielle caught it in her own hand and pressed it to her lips. Tears had regathered on her lashes and she wiped them away furiously before returning to the piece of paper that she had been using.

“ _I HATE Takhisis...”_ she wrote. _“She can be an evil Bitch.”_

Raistlin couldn't help but smirk and shake his head. “Indeed.”

 

***

 

The day wore on with Yurielle repeatedly being assaulted by pain. Each occurrence was draining and left her weaker than the one before. She tried to sleep, but could not get comfortable even laying on the softest blankets Raistlin had gathered for her. He brought her food in the hope that it would give her strength, but the poisonous green curse over her ribs ensured that nothing stayed down for long. Raistlin couldn't even touch her to try to comfort or help as even the lightest caress brought on more of those silent tears.

The sound of her crying without a voice was awful for the archmage and he could tell that Yurielle's airways were quickly becoming raw with her unnatural, shuddering breathing. Having suffered his whole life with a weak respiratory system of his own, Raistlin couldn't bear to watch her go through such an ordeal.

For some time, Raistlin did the only thing he could do: he searched through the books in his bedchambers in hopes that somehow, there may be a spell he could use. But, there again, if he found something promising it usually was for use by a white robe only. Frustrated he resigned himself to sit by her side and at the very least try and distract her.

“Because of my eyes,” he said from his spot seated next to her on the bed as he twirled a strand of her hair idly in his fingers, “I can no longer see many colors. At least, not as well as I once could. Do you know which color I missed the most?”

Yurielle's eyes flicked to him and she tried to seem interested but because of the pain in her arm, she could do nothing but hold it against her chest. Every hair on her body stood on end as a current of electricity radiated out from the handprint on her forearm and coursed through her skin.

“Red,” he answered and frowned at the obvious pain she was trying to hide from him. “The color of Lunitari and of the autumn leaves. However, since my curse, the color has been dull and lifeless. Most things are tinged with shades of gray, like the world is covered with ash. But then I met you... my Star with hints of fire in your hair and flame on your skin.” His fingers traced along her face and again wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “You are not faded for me, Yurielle. Not like everyone else. Dalamar is relatively untouched by my curse but even in him there is little life in his eyes, no blush on his skin or shine in his hair. It is the same for nearly all elves, except for the very young.”

Yurielle moved her lips, forgetting she couldn't speak. Next she tried to write it down but it proved useless as both of her arms trembled from the current in her body, causing random muscles to twitch and spasm. The archmage turned the page she had written only half a sentence on before she was forced to stop. _“Dalamar's a peaco-”_

“Yes he's a peacock,” Raistlin agreed and smoothing her hair away from her face, he kissed her forehead. “I hate this,” he murmured. “Why are you so damned stubborn?” He wanted very much to just take her to the Temple right now, even if it was against her will. She'd be upset, but anything was better than this.

The only thing stopping him was the thought of what if she was right? What if Takhisis only returned to inflict more pain? Raistlin did not want that more than anything else and if Yurielle was willing to ride out the effects of the curse then he'd do whatever was in his power to try to help her. He was pretty sure that - whatever Takhisis had inflicted on Yurielle - it was not permanent. The curse would fade as the bruises did, but the hardest part would be enduring the agony the marks brought on.

However, it hadn't even been a full day since she had woken him up with her screaming and already Raistlin could see that Yurielle's strength would not hold out long enough for the bruises to heal. Without divine intervention, she would indeed fade on him. He either had to find a way to reverse it himself, or take the chance and forcibly take her to the Temple and risk further ire from Takhisis. His mind began to work once again on options that he could pursue. Perhaps a holy relic would shield her? Or perhaps if he summoned Sisne or her brother back to the Tower, could one of them cast the complex spells he had found?

Raistlin was soon deeply lost in his own mind once more, giving Yurielle the opportunity to silently watch him. She could see spontaneous turmoil war with his need to control the situation rationally. He was trying to figure out a way to reverse this himself.

Yurielle could only smile sadly up at him as the remaining talons of latest wave of curse finally lessened its grip on her. With her voice shattered, she could do nothing to even try to ease her own suffering. They both knew that it would work, her song would easily cleanse this taint in her body. It was a cruel, cruel joke indeed that she had damaged the one thing she needed to use her wild gift.

As the hours slowly passed on, nothing Raistlin tried offered her any comfort either. A hot bath did not ease her aching muscles; it only served to inflame the cursed spot of the red dragon on her body. A cold bath was even worse, for Yurielle's body temperature dropped dangerously fast as the ice curse was strengthened and Raistlin was forced to remove her from the water and dry her as quickly as possible. Even after, buried under warm blankets, the cloth pressed on the bruises with enough weight to cause her pain.

Not even a decent dose of poppy syrup did anything to touch the magical affliction. All it did was make Yurielle unable to move and Raistlin watched, heart sick, as she did nothing but lay there, tears falling from her swollen eyes as another round of pain assaulted her.

“For Nuitari's sake, Yurielle, this is madness!” he cried and threw the bottle of poppy syrup against the far wall, where it shattered, the liquid oozing slowly down and tiny glass shards tinkling to floor like rain. He fell to his knees beside the bed and clutched her hand in his.

“Please...” he begged, tears gathering on the edges of his own eyes. “Don't make me watch you suffer.”

Worn out from her last episode and heavy limbed from the poppy syrup, Yurielle weakly rolled her head to face him. She barely had the strength to reach a hand out and brush the hair from Raistlin's face. His features, usually so stoic and guarded, now only displayed stress and pain of his own.

He truly could not take much more.

Yurielle knew that he would soon break and take her to the Temple anyway, whether she gave her consent or not. So, wiping the stray tear he didn't know had fallen from his cursed eyes, Yurielle nodded ever so slightly.

Raistlin didn't hesitate. With a flick of his hand, the Staff of Magius flew into his palm while he spoke the strength spell. Carefully he eased Yurielle into his arms and tried to ignore the way she tensed as he inadvertently touched some of her bruises. The goddess had known exactly where to touch her so that, no matter her position, one would always be touching something.

“I'm going to teleport us,” he told her. “I'm sorry that it will make you feel worse. I only hope that my magic doesn't react with the curse...”

Yurielle looked up into his face and with the last of her strength kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

With a flash Raistlin teleported them from the Tower and a heartbeat later they stood just down the walkway from the Temple of Paladine. He looked down at Yurielle in his arms and froze. Her eyes had rolled back into her skull and she had gone limp. “Yuri?” He released the Staff of Magius, not caring that it clattered to the stone walkway. Touching her face; her skin was cold as ice.

Without thinking Raistlin hurried closer to the Temple. He only got a few feet before the felt the divine holiness of Paladine's presence weigh him down. Nearly stumbling to his knees, Raistlin tried to continue on but he felt himself burn with holy suffering.

Forced to stop he glared at the structure and he knew that, though he had a heart now and a purpose for it, he had done terrible deeds in his life. He wasn't here to confess his crimes or ask for forgiveness from the God of Light, and so he was not allowed to get any closer.

Out of desperation, Raistlin used his magic to enhance his voice so that he could scream and make a cacophony of noise aimed at the Temple until priests finally appeared to see what was going on. He had never been so relieved in his life when the first cleric hastily approached him.

“She is gravely ill Revered Brother,” Raistlin breathed as a pair of the clerics took Yurielle from his arms. The cleric lay his hands on each side of Yurielle's face. His eyes went wide a moment later. “Get her into the Temple NOW!”

Raistlin was forgotten in the priests haste as they quickly carried Yurielle up the path and into the Temple. The archmage was left outside of the grand building where he paced for hours along the perimeter like a man going insane.

An eternity later, a priestess dared to approach him.

“Raistlin Majere.” She bowed as he whirled to greet her. To her it seemed as if his black robes sucked all light out of the space around him. “I am Crysania Tarinius, one of the priestesses of Paladine,” she explained when she stopped in front of him. “I have been caring personally for the woman you brought here.”

Raistlin's hourglass eyes widened as he took in the woman before him.

It was her! The woman that had walked beside him in that other timeline, the one he had opened the door to the Abyss with. This holy cleric of Paladine was the key that he had sought and found in that other time and place that would now, never be. He couldn't help but note that she was beautiful with long ebony curls that cascaded down her back, smooth marble features, and steel gray eyes.

Standing in her presence, Raistlin could feel it billowing off of her, the holy light and piety that he would have used against her. With just a glance the archmage saw that Crysania was pure and haughty, but also hungry for power and recognition. She craved a challenge in the name of her divine god and wanted nothing more than fulfill some great destiny. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she was also silently judging him as well.

It was clear to him, Crysania would love nothing more than to redeem and save him from the darkness. Yurielle embraced it, loved it even while Crysania would burn it from him with her will.

Raistlin could have sneered at this point, for that destiny would now never come true for this holy woman. She would never get her divine quest to redeem the irredeemable. The archmage instead repressed a shudder as he recalled the fate the other version of her had suffered by his own hand.

However, as he gazed at her, a thought floated through his head. Raistlin may yet need her if he would still go to the Abyss and beyond. Not to become a god this time, but to exact terrible revenge against one if his Yurielle was lost.

“How is she Revered Daughter?” he asked. “Will she be alright?”

A look of surprise filled the woman's face, as if she had expected some other reaction from him. “She rests comfortably now yes,” she stated, eyeing him somewhat suspiciously.

All tension seemed to roll out of the archmage at this news and a look of profound relief filled his face.

“Would you like to see her?” Crysania asked.

Raistlin met her eyes and noted how she started slightly from the strangeness of his hourglass pupils. He had grown so used to how Yurielle never flinched at his eyes that seeing someone do so again brought back feelings of annoyance and anger at others pity. “I dare not enter the Temple.”

“Paladine shall grant you passage if you would allow me to ward you,” she said serenely. “He understands your plight and sees into your heart archmage and though I do not understand it, he bade me to allow you entry if you wish it.”

Raistlin glanced at the woman before him before drawing his attention back to the Temple. He knew it was probably possible for him to enter with a ward. For it would be similar to what he would have to do to allow one such as her into his own Tower.

“Very well,” he nodded his assent.

Again she looked at him in surprise; she had clearly not expected him to accept her proposal. Taking a step up to him she held her hand between them. “I will admit that I have never done this before for one such as yourself, but I trust in Paladine and his wisdom. If you will allow me to place my hands upon you, Raistlin Majere, I will bless you.”

He nodded again and closed the gap between them. Raistlin studied the woman as she called upon her god. The archmage could see that he would have been attracted to Crysania. Indeed, like Yurielle, the woman before him had a unique and stunning beauty about her. But unlike Yurielle, this woman's face was as cold as marble. Little warmth of her heart was outwardly expressed on this woman's face.

Where Yurielle was free spirited and reckless in her actions, this woman was rigid to a fault. She oozed discipline and harsh strictness in her demeanor. Raistlin would have found these aspects appealing at one point, but now, after being exposed to someone so carefree and playful, Raistlin found them stifling. Yurielle was warmth and mirth, whereas Crysania was cold and stoic. The fact that on that other timeline Raistlin had developed feelings for this woman surprised him.

He truly had changed...

The archmage flinched out of his reverie as a wave of warm holy light washed over him. It wasn't painful per se, but it was uncomfortable.

“Believe me when I say we were not expecting to be treating a black robe, and one brought to us from the Master of the Dark Tower no less,” Crysania said as she turned to lead him towards the Temple. “It took us a while to figure out why it was so difficult to help her. I sense deep goodness inside the woman... how does she come to be in the presence of one of the dark robes?” She glanced at the mage out of the corner of her eye, obvious suspicion of a dubious nature filling the holy woman's thoughts.

“She walks the path so others do not have to...” he murmured as he came into step beside her.

“Pardon?” Crysania turned to regard him as they walked.

“Her words, not mine,” he stated caustically, not appreciating the subtle hint of accusation in her voice. “Believe me when I say I ask the same question everyday as you. But that is her reason and it is good enough. The ways of the magic are strange and even the most powerful of us cannot understand it.”

She nodded, absorbing this information. “Very well.... because of her good nature we have been able to help her. Even if I cannot understand it, Paladine has allowed her to be healed of the dark taint within her body.”

The archmage breathed a sigh of relief. “I feared nothing could be done for her.”

Crysania nodded. “We have done what Paladine has allowed us to.” They reached the first grand archway that spanned over the walkway. “What happened mage? She was touched by the Dark Goddess herself. It was an unholy pain inside of her body.”

“An unfortunate visit from Takhisis.... whom has taken an interest in her and left her mark on her,” Raistlin said but did not elaborate as he winced from the light that pierced his eyes when they walked beneath a yawning archway along the path.

Crysania was watching him as he flinched. She seemed almost smug about the fact that he was uncomfortable. Raistlin suddenly decided that his first assumption of her was wrong. Physical beauty aside, she was not attractive to him at all. Yurielle would never gloat over another beings discomfort, even if they did seemingly deserve it.

“She is special to you? An apprentice? No...not an apprentice,” Crysania was still watching his face, trying to gauge his reaction. “She was being punished by the goddess, this is obvious...”

“Yes,” he said lowly as they passed a second archway and neared the stairway. “Revered Daughter, I will not pretend to mince words with you. You know of me, know of my history with the Dark Goddess. She loathes me for trapping her in the Abyss at the end of the War, for sealing her away and preventing her from entering our world. _I_ , who fought on her side, betrayed her in the end.”

The woman nodded. “Yes, this is known, mage. The world would be very different if any other outcome had come to pass. But what does that have to do with this girl? What has she done to earn the ire of a goddess?”

Raistlin looked at her, observed the flesh wither on the woman’s face. “She is no simple 'girl',” he spat in irritation at the callous way she spoke of Yurielle. “That is my _heart_ you treat here within your Temple.” His voice was low and whispering. “It is because of what she gave back to me that she is punished. The dark goddess has always desired me, has always believed that she owns me. Now that another holds me, she will stop at nothing to torment me further and punish us both.”

Crysania's eyes went wide in disbelief. “You _love_ her!”

They had stopped before the stairway. He looked away and began pacing again, his hard golden eyes back on the Temple as he waited for the Revered Daughter to compose herself.

“By Paladine... I was not expecting that,” the woman murmured, her brow creased in deep thought.

“She will recover fully?” he asked, pulling her from her reverie, ignoring her comment. He didn't care what others thought.

“Fear not, Master of the Past and Present, we have removed the goddess's remnant touch from her skin. The curse is gone and the marks will fade with time as well, though her bruises will be painful yet while they heal. Nothing could be done to fade them so she must endure that pain yet. We have also healed her throat. Her voice will begin to return in a few days time. She is very weak yet, will be for some days I fear, but she no longer writhes in unspeakable torment,.”

He sighed. “You have my eternal thanks then Revered Daughter.”

She watched him as he watched the Temple, obvious pain in his eyes at staring at the building that housed the essence of light and goodness. “Does it still hurt you to look upon the Temple?”

“It is an agony...” he murmured. “But Paladine hasn't blinded me yet. So please, let us continue. I wish to see that she is as you claim.”

Crysania shook her head and looked back as he gasped. Turning to the Temple she saw a woman exit the doors, a trail of healers behind her, begging the woman to return to their care.

Yurielle came down the steps as fast as her weakened state would allow. Her hands pushed the caring touches of the acolytes off of her. She was robed in white robes of healing, but as she came closer, the robes appeared to fade the farther from the Temple's light she went, slowly turning gray until they appeared to be color of dark slate as she dove into the shadow of his arms with a joyous sob at seeing him.

“My Star...” he whispered into her hair and held her carefully, as if afraid to break her.

Yurielle nuzzled into Raistlin and buried her face in his chest, breathing him in deeply. It had only been a few hours, but she had missed him dearly and was just as worried about the archmage as he was of her. Seeing him here, bathed in the holy light of the Temple, even though it was causing him obvious discomfort, filled her heart with love.

The healers all stopped their descent down the stairs and gaped at the sight of the feared Raistlin Majere embracing this woman they had just taken great care to heal.

Crysania waved them off to return to their duties. Turning back to the embracing couple she couldn't help but stare at the sight of the most hated and feared man on all Krynn as he held the strange, enigmatic woman as if she were the most precious thing in all the world. When the two broke apart Crysania took a step closer to lay her hand on the woman's arm.

“My dear, you must rest,” she said gently, and for a moment Raistlin saw compassion on the marble face. “But I will let you return with him if it is your wish. For I see that indeed,” her eyes went back to the archmage, “you both care for one another very much.”

Yurielle nodded, her auburn hair bouncing around her heart-shaped face.

“What is your name dear?” Crysania asked, then looked to Raistlin for the answer. He in turn glanced down at Yurielle to silently ask her permission.

Yurielle nodded at him.

“She is Yurielle.” He stated, his soft voice held his reverence for her.

“Yurielle,” Crysania smiled and the woman returned it warmly. “Someday, will you return and meet with me? I would very much like to get to know you more.”

Yurielle bowed and clasped the priestesses' hands in her own. She gave her a bright smile and nodded, her endearing dimples flashing on her honest face.

Crysania couldn't help but gape at the woman for she was the complete opposite of the man who stood behind her, his arms carefully slid around her waist, enveloping her again in his dark robes. The priestess met the archmage's eyes and saw his own smug look in them. Something stirred inside of the cleric, a sense of loss she couldn't explain. There was a likeness to this man before her that mirrored something within herself. It was both disturbing and shocking to her and she quickly turned her thoughts away from such heresy.

There was no way she was anything like this creature of evil. She felt pity for the woman that he held protectively in his arms, for the poor soul was also apparently lost to the darkness as well.

With one final pat on the Revered Daughters hands Yurielle released her and turned in Raistlin's arms to face him. Reaching up she pulled his face down to hers and brushed her lips against his. She wasn't able to say it but she mouthed the words 'I love you' against those golden lips.

Raistlin held her tightly. His eyes ached at the brightness from the Temples light around them, however they burned when he understood what she had said against his lips. “I love you...” he repeated quietly and for her ears only.

Yurielle released him and smiled up at him. Gently she tucked strands of his hair away from his face into the dark depths of his hood. She looked around them and to the Temple then back to him, her eyes questioning as she reached up and brushed her hands around his eyes as if to shield them.

“Yes. The light here is agony.” Raistlin kissed her forehead. “Yours is all I need. Come, let's go home Yurielle.”

Crysania silently followed them as the strange couple made their way together back down the path to the main road that ran away from the Temple.

Pausing at the end of the walkway, Raistlin turned back to Crysania.

“Thank you again, Lady Crysania,” he inclined his head and offered her a slight bow while gathering Yurielle once more into the warmth of his robes. “Call upon the Dark Tower if you ever need my assistance.” He didn't allow the Revered Daughter any time to reply, for in an instant both he and Yurielle flashed out of existence, returning to the Tower of High Sorcery that loomed over the nearby houses.

Crysania stood there for many minutes with her eyes on the dark shape that blotted out the slowly brightening sky. The cursed Tower of High Sorcery loomed only mere blocks from the radiant Temple of Paladine and looked as if it were merely a long dark shadow cast from the light.

“Paladine....” Crysania whispered reverently to her God. “What strange riddle is this?” She shook her head again to banish the weird tingling in the back of her mind, as if Paladine were asking her to see something she had no idea was even there.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I included a quick drawing I made to get a better visual of where the marks were on Yurielle's body and which curse each handprint held.  
> As always, thank you again for reading. Your comments are always welcome and appreciated :)


	42. Healing Interlude

Raistlin and Yurielle appeared back inside the study within the Tower of High Sorcery. Weak and now dizzy, Yurielle sagged in Raistlin's arms. The archmage caught her and whispered the strength spell once again. “Hold on, love,” he whispered as he gathered her back into his arms while still being cautious of her bruises. Leaving the Staff of Magius to rest against the fireplace, Raistlin carried Yurielle back to his bedchambers.

Gently he lay her upon the bed and adjusted the blankets around her. She seemed to already be asleep so Raistlin turned away to let her rest. However, her hand on his arm halted him. Turning back to her, he found her staring up at him, imploring him to stay.

“I'm not going far,” he reassured her as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I'll only be in the other room.”

Silently she squeezed his arm, her eyes large and glassy with tears.

“You need to rest, Yurielle...” He paused when she pulled against his arm. “What, Yuri?” he asked her pleading eyes. Raistlin found the papers that lay abandoned on the bedside next to her. Handing them to her along with the quill, he waited for her to write her down thoughts.

She was exhausted but managed to write: _“Please stay and hold me for a while.”_

The warmth he was still not used to spread through his chest and into his limbs. “Very well. But just until you fall asleep,” he said as he removed his robes. “I want to refresh my spells in case Takhisis dares show her face again.”

Yurielle's lip trembled at the reminder and Raistlin regretted bringing it back up. Carefully, he climbed into bed next to her and allowed her to rest against him. It took her awhile to get comfortable, but she eventually settled along his body, curled in the crook of his arm.

Raistlin was about to ask her how she felt but, to his surprise, she was already fast asleep with her head against his chest. He sighed quietly and resigned himself to being her pillow until he could manage to move out from under her. Until then, he allowed himself to enjoy her presence and the warm feel of her curves against him. Idly he twirled strands of her hair in his golden fingers and let his Star rest as he kept watch.

 

***

 

Yurielle opened her eyes to find that the room was dark. Pale moonlight filtered through the room, causing the shadows to darken and dance eerily around her. Panic gripped her heart and instinctively she reached out beside her. This time, to her relief, her hand felt something solid and being the light sleeper that he was, Raistlin was already rolling over when he sensed she had awakened.

He sat up. “Yuri?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “What's wrong?”

The archmage could see fear and confusion written on her pale face as her dark eyes continued to search the room. Reaching out beside the bed he whispered, “Shirak.” The light on top of the Staff of Magius flared to life, banishing the shadows in the room.

Comforted by the familiar light, Yurielle relaxed ever so slightly. However, Raistlin could tell she was still uneasy.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, returning his attention back to her.

Absentmindedly Yurielle lightly touched the front of her shoulder where there was a phantom burning. Once Raistlin noticed, he reached out to check her skin. “Don't touch,” he commanded softly as he moved the edge of the white gown she was still wearing away from the mark. A deep black and purple bruise marred her skin but it was no longer red and humming with curse magic.

Seeing the look in Raistlin's eyes, Yurielle also looked down at her shoulder and sucked in a breath at how ugly and large the mark was. Curious she began to open the gown to view the rest of the marks.

As if on reflex, Raistlin diverted his eyes as the gown fell away from her shoulders.

Yurielle couldn't stop the amused expression that flitted across her face at his apparent shyness. Gently she rested her hand under his chin and turned his face back to her. The paper and quill still rested on the bed next to her, so quickly she wrote: _“Why so bashful archmage? You've seen me naked.”_

“I know,” he replied quietly. “I'm... just not used to it.”

“ _Well get used to it.”_

He smirked at that. “If you insist,” he replied but paused when his attention was drawn back to her body and the dark, hideous marks that marred her flesh.

Yurielle's own eyes fell down to her body and she moved slightly so that she could better see the marks. Tentatively she poked at one with a fingertip. Hissing in pain she flinched and drew her hand away quickly.

“I told you not to touch them,” he scowled at her self inflicted pain. “I believe I have some ointment that may help dull the pain. Do you need to refresh yourself, Yurielle? You've been asleep all day.”

Now that he mentioned it, Yurielle became well aware at how much she needed to use the privy. Nodding, she moved slowly to the bedside as Raistlin climbed out on his side. Coming around to her he helped her stand and re-closed the gown around her body to hide the marks. The act earned him a confused look. “I don't like seeing them, Yurielle,” he explained. His voice dripped with loathing at what had been done to her.

Yurielle tried to take a step towards the washroom but her right hip throbbed painfully from the bruise that seemed to affect her whole leg. With infinite patience, Raistlin offered her his arm and Yurielle took it gratefully, using it to put her weight on as they slowly made their way to the other room.

Several minutes later, Yurielle - after again having to shoo Raistlin out of the small room with the privy - was once more reclined comfortably on the bed. Raistlin had adjusted a few pillows so she could sit up to relieve the pain in her sides.

“Do you want a dose of poppy syrup?” he asked as he eyed the dark welts on her body that now all lay bare before him. “This is going to hurt no matter how gentle I am,” he said darkly.

Yurielle pointed to the wall were the remnants of the poppy syrup had congealed on its surface.

“I have more,” he said. “Or I have willow bark.”

She wrote on the paper at her side: _“Willow bark please. You don't want me loopy as a kender on holiday again.”_

He scoffed at that and rolled his eyes. “Indeed. I'll go fetch it. Do you need anything else?”

Yurielle thought a moment. _“I am kind of hungry,”_ she wrote.

This seemed to please Raistlin and he nodded. “Alright,” he said as he closed her garment around her and pulled a blanket up to cover her. “We'll do this after you've eaten and had some pain relief. I'll be right back.” He went to leave but the look in her eyes made him pause. She looked frightened but was trying to hide it from him. Going to his side of the bed he took the Staff of Magius in his hand and brought it to Yurielle. “Shirak,” he whispered and again the light within the golden claw flared to life. “Will you feel safer if I leave this with you?”

A smile flitted across her lips. Reaching out she lay her hand gently across the smooth dark wood of the staff. Raistlin let her take it from him and marveled at how the staff remained lit for her and did not react to her touch as it did for nearly everyone else. “I won't be long,” he said and leaned down to kiss the crown of her head.

Yurielle watched him leave through the doorway into his study. She heard him rustling around in the other room for a moment. Almost immediately a warm glow illuminated the doorway between the rooms, signaling that he had lit the fire within the study. Soon after,Yurielle heard the door to the landing open when he left to descend to the kitchen. Taking a steadying breath, Yurielle distracted herself by counting slowly in her head and trying to guess where in the Tower he had reached.

She knew that her fear was irrational. Takhisis was vain and petty but the goddess had made her point. There more than likely wouldn't be any reason for her to return a second time. But this knowledge did little to ease Yurielle's anxiety as every time she closed her eyelids, she saw glowing red eyes in place of where the shadows were in the room.

Carefully she brought the Staff of Magius up and laid it on the bed next to her. She knew Raistlin was just being nice by leaving it with her. She couldn't command the staff even if she wanted to but it was the thought that had touched her and comforted her more than its familiar light. Raistlin was rarely ever without it. If the staff was not in his hand, it was no more than an arm's length away from him. The magical artifact was practically an extension of his body and seeing one without the other was almost odd. But, she had to admit, she did feel safer with the staff beside her.

Yurielle laid back against the pillows as she waited. With a yawn, she closed her eyes to rest them for a few moments. But, knowing that Raistlin would be back soon, she didn't want to fall asleep just yet. So to distract herself Yurielle continued her slow counting of the steps within the Tower, imagining as she did her golden mage preparing something to eat for her.

What would he bring her? Could Raistlin actually cook? The thought brought a smile to her lips and she couldn't wait to see what he would bring.

The next time she opened her eyes, it was morning.

“Crysania was correct,” Raistlin's soft voice floated to Yurielle through her sleep induced haze. “You need rest, but I wasn't expecting this level of exhaustion.” He appeared next to her then, having come from his small writing table in the corner of the room. “How do you feel?” he asked as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Her stomach rumbled loudly in reply.

“Well, that is not surprising,” he chuckled slightly and returned to his desk. Moments later he was back with a tray. “You were sound asleep when I came back last night. I figured it best you sleep a while but you've been out all night.” Setting the tray down on the end table next to her he sat down on the edge of the bed and helped her to sit up straighter. After sleeping in one position for so long, Yurielle found that her sides ached and she was even more stiff today than she was yesterday.

“I made a special herbal mixture to help your throat,” Raistlin said once she was settled and poured steaming water from the kettle on the tray into a mug. The aroma of licorice root, cinnamon and other herbs Yurielle recognized instantly filled the room.

“You look better today,” he commented as she sipped the tea. It's warmth and medicinal blend instantly helped to soothe her throat. “You're not as pale.”

Yurielle could only nod as she put down her tea and took a piece of toast from the plate on the tray. Gingerly she took a small bite off the corner of it. She hadn't eaten in a couple days now and was famished. But the memory of how the green curse made her insides rebel against food was making her cautious. She didn't want to rush it in case there would be any lingering after effects.

“Would you like honey?” the archmage asked and offered her a small jar of the golden liquid. She nodded again and he took her toast and began to spread the honey on it.

Yurielle watched him and the longer she did, the deeper a scowl line marred her forehead.

“What?” he asked when he handed her back the toast, now lathered in a generous layer of honey.

Looking around Yurielle spotted the paper and quill. After dipping the tip of the quill in ink she wrote: _“You don't need to pamper me Raistlin. I can manage.”_

“We're not going to have this conversation again,” he replied tersely, remembering back when she had reprimanded his attentiveness when she was injured from the crossbow bolt. “You're not a burden to me Yurielle. I want to do whatever I can to help.” He rested his hand along her face, his face softening. “I love you,” he whispered. “Watching you suffer was agony. Let me assist you.”

With misty eyes she wrote: _“I love you too. But I can honey my own toast!”_

Raistlin rolled his eyes. “Very well. I'll do everything short of feed you. Agreed?”

This time Yurielle rolled her eyes back at him, making sure to over exaggerate the act.

The archmage shook his head but smiled at her as he stood up. “I'll return then to my studies as you eat. Anything else you require?”

“ _The willow bark?”_

“It is there on the tray,” he indicated the small jar with little powdered pills. “Start with two after you've eaten.”

She returned to the paper: _“I was looking forward to that ointment... and maybe a bath? My muscles ache.”_

Raistlin nodded. “I'll go draw you one when you've finished eating. Then I'll apply the ointment. Deal?”

Yurielle smiled and grabbed his hand. Pressing his knuckles to her lips she kissed him then shooed him away as if impatient to be rid of his hovering.

Chuckling, Raistlin returned to his spellbooks but found that he could not study now that she was awake. Instead, his gaze kept falling on her as she nibbled on her breakfast of toast and apple slices, seeming normal and content in every way. Every once in awhile she'd pause to sip at her tea and the anemic light filtering through the window panes would catch in her hair as she moved. Still, even now, the flash of red made him pause.

Eventually she caught him staring and she crinkled her face at him. Yurielle pointed to her eyes then to his.

“Yes, I'm staring,” he grumbled. “You need to stop being so adorable.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and, on impulse, Raistlin returned the childish action. This caught Yurielle off guard and she grinned ear to ear as her body shook with silent laughter.

Surprised at his action just as much as her, Raistlin irritably tore his eyes from Yurielle and just shook his head again as he tried to figure out when he got as bad as his twin when it came to women.

 

***

 

“Is the water too hot?”

Yurielle shook her head and, with a sigh, lowered herself into the bath as Raistlin released her.

She heard Raistlin hiss and cracked her eyes open to find his hourglass pupils locked on her skin. “The marks look worse today,” he said darkly. Anger flashed in those eyes and Yurielle saw his jaw tighten as he fought to stay calm.

Raistlin had rolled his sleeves up and tied his hair back away from his face before he had helped her climb into the bath. Her leg was weak and she needed his support to get over the rim of the tub. He was all angles and hard lines like this, his hawkish features severe in his anger and accentuated with his hair pulled back. Golden skin glowed in the soft, diffused light of the candles along the wall but the warm light did little to hide the troubled look he wore. The corners of his mouth were pulled down in that usual scowl he was so accustomed to wearing.

Leaning forward in the water, Yurielle ran a wet hand over his arm, drawing him out his anger. She couldn't talk, but the archmage was growing used to the looks on her face and in her eyes. She was asking him for calm and to not be angry. _“Focus on there here and now, with me...”_ – her fingers seemed to say as she traced damp lines along his skin. The feel of her touch was pleasant despite his ire at the situation.

Releasing a tense breath Raistlin slumped against the side of the tub and met her gaze. “I'm trying to resist the urge to batter my way into the Abyss to punish her for what she did to you,” he confessed, his eyes still hard but the ire was drained from him. “But I suppose I'll settle with watching you bathe.” His mouth quirked up slightly at that and his eyes finally softened.

Yurielle patted his arm where it still rested on the edge of the tub as she sank back against the side, allowing the heat and warmth to soothe her sore muscles. She hadn't realized just how much the painful spasms had strained her muscles and she felt as though she had been running for days, so worn out was her body from the agony of the curses effects.

She heard Raistlin fill a small pitcher of water. “Close your eyes,” he commanded gently. “I'll wash your hair.”

Smiling, she obeyed and allowed him to pour the warm water over her head. Soon she was lulled into a stupor from the feel of Raistlin's long fingers against her scalp as he worked soap through the tangles. Again he poured water over her head several times to rinse it.

“Don't drown yourself, Yurielle,” Raistlin's voice floated to her through her relaxed haze and sleepily Yurielle opened her eyes to find that she had indeed sank lower into the water. Raistlin had his hand on her upper arm, ready to pull her up if she suddenly became submerged. A small shiver ran through her and she realized the water was much less warm. Her eyes widened.

“Yes, you nodded off for a while,” he confirmed. He took her hand in his and turned it so that she could see the skin on her fingers. “And you're getting wrinkled as a prune. Time to get out before you look like an old lady,” he teased, mirth tinting his voice at the look on her face as he turned to reach for a nearby towel. Turning back to her he stood and held out his hand.

Wearily Yurielle took his offered help and Raistlin assisted her to stand in the water. Instead of waiting for her to step over the high side, the archmage whispered his strength spell and, tucking the towel around her body, carefully gathered her into his arms. Ignoring the sloshing water that quickly doused the front of his clothes, Raistlin carried Yurielle back to the bedchambers and laid her across the surface of the bed. Disappearing back into the washroom he emerged moments later with more towels and a hairbrush as well as a jar of ointment.

Yurielle watched him with drowsy eyes as he first proceeded to remove his soaked clothes, dry himself, and redress in a loose pair of dark pants and simple tunic. Turning, he found her eyes on him and Yurielle gave him a small, reassuring smile when she noticed the faint rush of red that suddenly tinted his skin.

“Now look who's staring,” he said and came to the bedside, tucking in his shirt as he walked.

Finding the abandoned paper once more, Yurielle wrote: _“Why are you embarrassed?”_

Raistlin picked up a towel and gently wound it around her head, gathering up her wet hair as he did.

He didn't reply.

Yurielle poked him in the stomach, demanding an answer.

Raistlin growled in irritation and her pointing finger to what she had written drew his eyes to her question. “I read it the first time,” he snapped.

She tapped the page with a long finger, her eyes boring into him.

Sighing heavily, Raistlin dropped his arms to his side once finished with winding her hair up out of the way. “You know why.”

“ _No, I do NOT!”_ she wrote.

“I'm not pleasant to look at,” he stated as if it were obvious as he turned away from her to grab the jar of ointment.

Yurielle caught his hands in hers, encasing them in her palms she forced him to look at her. Arching up, she kissed the corner of his mouth before nuzzling the side of his face with her own. He could clearly remember her words from the other night when she had done the same thing. _“You're an idiot.”_

Before he could reply she pulled away and was already writing. _“I love the way you look Raistlin.”_

“Open your towel, Yurielle, so I can apply the ointment,” he said, blatantly ignoring what she had written.

Frustrated with his sudden gloominess, Yurielle ripped the cloth from her and flung it at him. In a huff she fell back against the pillows but instantly regretted her hasty actions; in her haste she had hit one of her bruises.

Tears stinging her eyes, she looked at anything but Raistlin as he sat down on the bed beside her. She felt the bed move as his slight weight was just enough to move the surface of it. Opening the lid of the jar, he took a generous amount of the thick salve on his fingertips. Yurielle started when his voice suddenly filled the room. She was not expecting him to actually say anything else on the matter.

“You say that you love this body, Yurielle,” he said quietly as his fingers carefully smeared the numbing ointment across her shoulder. “And I suppose I can only trust that it is so. But you need to understand how I view myself and every other person around me. Unlike you, I am not spared from my curse. Do you know what it is like to watch your own body rot?”

The tears she was holding back fell down her cheeks now as she listened. She watched silently as he finished applying the ointment to the first bruise and moved to the one along her ribs. With featherlight touches he softly worked it into her skin, but his actions were mechanical and he refused to look anywhere else but the dark bruises.

“I've never been much to look at,” he suddenly said, and Yurielle's eyes went from his hands to his face. His hair was still pulled back, allowing her to fully see his expression. He seemed lost in thought, perhaps he didn't even realize he was still talking?

“I was nothing but a runt. Fine boned and weak, the only strong part of me was my mind. But the mind does not draw looks of admiration from anyone... no one notices intelligence at first glance. At least, not in the young.” He shifted his weight on the bed, the act made him pause in his work and in his speaking. When he began again, his voice was even quieter.

“I never undressed in front of anyone but my brother and even then, only when necessary. He never had any qualms about being nude. Caramon would strip naked and flaunt to the world his blessings and the admiring looks he received only grew as he developed. He was always strong, even as a child. But as the years went on, his muscles grew larger and his body changed in ways mine only did in whispers.”

Raistlin paused then to gather more ointment from the jar before turning his attention to the massive bruise along her hip. He continued speaking, his voice now oozing with loathing and contempt. “There were days I swear he refused to wear a shirt just because he enjoyed how the ladies, and probably a few of the men, glanced at him from beneath their eyelashes. No one ever looked at me like that and I did not want them too.”

His long fingers scooped up more of the ointment again as he started along her side, gently messaging the the healing properties into her skin. “I bathed in the dark, swimming was out of the question. I made that mistake once, only once.”

Yurielle could see the laughter that he was remembering. The cruel teasing and pity of others was reflected in his strange hourglass eyes. Memories and pain were dulled by the years, but they were still there, deep within the archmage, festering like a canker.

When Raistlin went to tend the final bruise on her forearm, he finally looked into her face and the breath in his lungs froze. Yurielle was crying. Nearly dropping the jar he gasped, “Yurielle! You should have done something to let me know I was hurting you!” His voice was harsh and scathing, angry at himself.

Her eyes widened. He didn't understand that her tears were for him. Shaking her head she grasped his hand and pulled him down to her. The swiftness of her tug was so fierce that Raistlin was forced to catch himself with a hand against the head board. “Yuri-” he began, but her mouth over his stole his words.

Yurielle kissed him fiercely and passionately and Raistlin gasped as her tongue suddenly found its way into his mouth. His senses were again overloaded with her. The smell of her slightly damp skin, the taste of her mouth with the lingering flavor of licorice root made his head swim as her tongue ran along his.

Groaning against her, Raistlin tried to pull away but she had woven her fingers beneath the tight strands of his gathered hair, not allowing him to pull back without yanking half his hair out of his scalp. Afraid to move or touch her least he accidentally hit one of her bruises, Raistlin was forced to accept her passionate kiss and found that he was returning it in spite of the fact that he knew better. Now was not the time for this... but gods how he wanted her!

“Yurielle!” he panted, finally able to talk when her hands left his scalp, allowing him to pull away. Those slender hands were suddenly under his shirt, softly caressing his stomach and chest as her mouth was now on his neck, sucking gently on his collarbones. The sensation was hypnotizing and all Raistlin wanted was for her to keep going.

Opening his eyes, Raistlin found that both his hands were now braced against the headboard with Yurielle's supple naked body beneath him. Memory of the other night when she had allowed him to explore her flooded Raistlin's mind. The taste of not only her mouth, but of her skin and of the places on her body that made her female.

Fighting against the wave of desire, the archmage focused on the dark, black and purple marks on her body. He noted that one of his knees was between her slightly parted legs, while the other was close to that hideous bruise on her hip. One wrong move and his knee would be digging into that dark spot, causing her agony.

“Yuri stop,” he tried to command but the words came out strangled at the feel of her lips on his sensitive flesh. “I don't... touching you will cause you pain!” He groaned as her fingers grazed his nipples, making him jump at the light contact as the sensation sent shivers through his body.

Raistlin felt himself responding to her touch, his manhood so hard against the taut fabric of his pants that it hurt. He was surprised at how much he wanted her to keep going as that mouth of hers worked at his skin, just when her tongue slid out along his neck and he once again groaned in pleasure. Last time, he had instinctively shied away from her touch, but now his body was screaming for Yurielle to lavish her affections on him. Raistlin desperately wanted Yurielle to do whatever it was that she had in mind for him. His shattered body craved affection, years of denying himself the soft touch of another began to unravel so fast that his head was spinning.

He forced himself to stare at those bruises. Forced himself to think of her sobbing silently in pain. Raistlin craved her, as a thirsty man craves the water right in front of him, but he knew that to drink of this water would only taste like salt and tears. To take her now, or even to allow her to take him, would only end in her being in agony.

Quickly Raistlin reined in his desire and pushed himself up away from her and off of the bed in one quick and sudden motion. “Stop it, Yurielle!” he said firmly but not harshly. His eyes fell on her, her skin was flushed, her eyes bright and eager, but her body was trembling. He could see it in her eyes, they were tight with pain.

“Did I...?” Raistlin wanted to ask if he had touched one of her bruises to cause her this pain, but she was already shaking her head, denying that it was him. He knew she wouldn't tell him even it was his fault.

Yurielle bit her lip and drew her bruised arm against her chest where she cradled it as tears spilled from her eyes.

Growling in irritation, Raistlin undid the strip of cloth that he had tied his hair back with. Half of it had fallen out anyway from Yurielle's hands on his scalp. In frustration he ran his hand through it in an attempt to untangle it. However, he was upset and angry and only managed to yank at his hair painfully, causing his scalp to ache. Sighing now in defeat Raistlin carefully lowered himself back to the bed beside her. “What can I do to help?” he asked, knowing there was very little he could do.

Yurielle only sniffled next to him, trying valiantly to overcome the raw pain in her body.

Brushing the tears that had spilled down her cheeks with a gentle thumb Raistlin said, “I know what you were trying to do, Yurielle.”

She met his gaze as the pain began to fade. It wasn't near as painful as when the curses had struck her, but this pain was as if every nerve and fiber of her physical form beneath each bruise was raw and exposed. When one hurt they all seemed to hurt and the agony went straight through her down to the bone.

“You love me,” Raistlin said, his hand still along the side of her face as his eyes studied her in soft mid-morning glow that suffused the room. “Though I do not understand how or why, I've come to accept that you do. For some bizarre reason, you do indeed love me. And, in return, you have my love as well, Yurielle with no surname. The wild mage I found in the darkness, singing to the shadows.” The tiniest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth at the memory of their first encounter.

“It's been months since that day and you have changed my entire existence. You've flayed me open and your light casts itself not only on who and what I am, but also on the things that I wish not to remember or talk about...” She went to speak, again forgetting her voice was gone. Raistlin pressed his thumb over her mouth to silence her as if she was able to talk.

“Someday, Yurielle. Perhaps one day I'll bare everything to you. But not yet. You said it yourself, 'I'm a mess'.” He gave a disparaging smirk at himself. “You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into. But I know that you are strong and stubborn and will not give up on me so easily.” His thumb released the pressure on her lips to gently trace over them. “This will take time, Yurielle, and I am not convinced you will be happy beside me in the end. But... if you insist and are willing to endure the tangle that is my life, then...” His eyes met hers now from where they were studying her mouth. “I asked for your patience once. Can I ask it of you once more? May I be so selfish as to ask that you give it to me for as long as this love between us lasts?”

Yurielle's tears had stopped falling by now. Her eyes were locked with his, watching him as he spoke. Placing her hand over his on the side of her face she nodded.

“Thank you,” he breathed and he relaxed in a way that suggested that he had been braced for her to refuse. “So please. No more questions, Yurielle. For now, accept that I am not comfortable in my own skin and please, for the love of the gods, do NOT try to distract me like that again!” He tried to scowl but Yurielle could plainly see that he had enjoyed what had just happened.

She gave him a pout and shifted slightly on the bed, the movement causing her bosom to move ever so slightly, drawing his eyes to her chest.

“Not until you are healed!” he growled, his eyes snapping back up to her face, his own face flushed slightly. “Behave yourself, Yurielle!”

Chewing on her lip, Yurielle couldn't stop the mischievous grin that spread across her features and she wiggled her eyebrows at him.

Raistlin rolled his eyes. “You are an impossible woman,” he grumbled as he closed the jar of ointment that lay forgotten next to them on the bed. The archmage made to stand up but she caught his arm in her hand and swiftly planted a small kiss against his lips. Raistlin tensed, expecting another sneaky maneuver like before. When none came, he sat back and studied the coy expression on her face.

Yurielle was suddenly assaulted by a fierce yawn. She had only been awake for about an hour or so since breakfast, but she was exhausted. A tiny shiver ran up her body, reminding them both that she was still reclining naked against the pillows with only a towel around her hair.

“I brought you some clothes,” Raistlin said as he finally stood up. Going to the wardrobe at the end of the room, he opened it, and Yurielle could see that he had filled much of it with her clothes.

It didn't seem like he owned many of his own by the looks of it. Only a few of his golden trimmed robes hung on one side while she recognized several of her own items filled the other. She arched an eyebrow at him.

Raistlin ignored the look and rummaged through a drawer until he retrieved a few items. Bringing them over, he had brought a small selection ranging from a shift to leggings and a shirt along with some undergarments.

Yurielle took the shift from him and he assisted her in slowly pulling it over her head. Once pulled down over her legs she wearily rested back once more.

“Nothing else?” he asked.

She picked up the pair of small clothes and indicated that the top of them would just push against the bruise on her hip so she handed them back to him. Raistlin scowled. “That's going to be distracting...” he mumbled for indeed, now that she was covered, he found that he wanted her clothes off once more. Even bruised by Takhisis' touch, Yurielle's body was a marvel for his cursed eyes to look upon. The room seemed bleaker now without the sunlight playing on her radiant skin. He flushed slightly when he met her eyes and Yurielle took the quill and paper in her hands once more.

“ _You behave_ yourself _archmage!”_ she had written.

Raistlin snorted and took the items back to the wardrobe. “I'm not the impulsive one Yurielle. I can control myself.” After replacing the items he returned to her side. She had written:  _“You didn't have to bring so many items into your room for me.”_

He met her eyes and studied her for a moment. “Do you not want to stay with me? At least until you heal?”

Yurielle's eyes widened and she wrote:  _“Of_ course  _I want to stay with you Raistlin. I just don't need to invade your space!”_

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Believe me when I say that you are not.”

She smiled up at him sleepily, her head nodded off just slightly.

“You need to rest,” he commanded gently as he helped her pull the covers out from under her. Once settled beneath them, Raistlin removed the towel from her hair and began to gently work his hairbrush through the damp tendrils.

Yurielle was asleep within moments with the feeling of the archmage's presence all around her. As long as he was near, the darkness and nightmares that clung to the edges of her thoughts could not harm her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the change of pace in this chapter. I like to write sappy down time moments as well as all the other ups and downs. I love hearing your feedback on the matter :)


	43. Dark Reminders

The next few days were much the same as Yurielle continued to heal. Raistlin was never far away from her in the event that she needed him. He was at her side in an instant to assist her in walking to the privy as well as with bathing and dressing. He brushed her hair and even braided it for her – much to her astonishment and amazement at this unexpected skill. He brought her meals and tea as well as massaged the pain relieving ointment onto her bruises.

The archmage would patiently hold his one sided conversations with her, answering questions she wished to know or waiting for her to write down answers to some of his own. He found that he enjoyed having Yurielle nearby and appreciated that she didn't pry or dig through his things. She was respectful of his space and was reluctant to interrupt him even after he repeatedly insisted that she was allowed to.

Meanwhile, Yurielle simply enjoyed being in the same room as Raistlin and, though her curiosity about him and the spellbooks around them was gnawing at her, she refused to be a burden and tried to be as unobtrusive as possible while he went about his day to day activities. Being alone for much of her life and accustomed to staying out of other people's way, she wasn't used to anyone doting on her and this sudden influx of attention was almost overwhelming.

However, the two of them quickly became used to each other's presence and habits and they fell into a comfortable rhythm faster than either expected. Throughout it all, the archmage proved to be the most attentive and patient of caregivers and Yurielle humbled herself to let him to care for her, sensing rightly that it was but one way in which Raistlin wanted to show his feelings.

During the short periods that Yurielle was awake, Raistlin kept her company by sitting with her and reading to her from one of the story books that she had found in his bed chambers. The fanciful tales he told in his soft, melodic voice delighted Yurielle to no end. When she asked him why he kept such stories hidden away in his innermost sanctuary he merely shrugged and replied that once in a while he enjoyed the simple entertainment of a story or two.

Also during these quiet times in each other's company, Yurielle would often nod off unexpectedly; her mind and body still wrung out from the traumatic meeting with the Dark Goddess. Sleep seemed to do little in helping against her long-lasting exhaustion and often her rest was interrupted by recurring nightmares of glowing red eyes. Upon waking, Yurielle could still feel those porcelain limbs pinning her down against a cold marble slab, causing her to tremble violently with the remembered sensations.

This would happen at all hours of the day or night and during the day Raistlin would be there quickly to comfort her with loving words. If it happened at night Raistlin would wake from the smallest change in Yurielle's breathing; which was one of the first warning signals before one of her nightmares. He would then soothe her back to sleep without her even waking merely with a simple touch on her back or a light kiss on a closed eyelid, which was enough to ease her mind and drive away the nightmare.

But on the third night after their visit to the Temple of Paladine, it was Yurielle who was torn from sleep by a strangled cry...

 

***

_Screams._

He was surrounded by agonized screams.

The sounds of what must have been hundreds, no, thousands of tortured, pain filled screaming filled the inside of Raistlin's head, all of them echoing and clamoring over one another as the owners of those long forgotten voices met a terrible end. Each scream was different, yet all of them wailed the same song of death as their life forces were drained from them.

But oh, how he reveled in those screams, how he enjoyed the slow, almost sensual feel of drawing out those threads of life, bringing each of them into himself...

The energy of another's life coursing through him...

Filling him.

Renewing him.

Giving him vitality and life once more.

That sweet, delicious energy flowing back through his veins, rejuvenating his dying body, was the most addicting feeling he had ever experienced.

“ _Intoxicating, isn't it?” w_ hispered that dreaded voice.

Raistlin's eyes flung open, and he didn't realize that he had added his own scream to the cacophony still echoing in his head. But when he went to draw in a breath, his lungs failed him, his throat closed, and his airway seized up.

He felt a squeezing inside of his chest, tighter than he had in many weeks. Dark spots started to float before his eyes the longer he tried to draw air. His heart shuddered painfully. _“You think she owns this?”_ The squeezing intensified, nearly sending him into unconsciousness. _“You are a foolish boy to forget our deal. You are mine, not some trollop's!”_

The pain suddenly lessened considerably, and through the haze and dark spots Raistlin saw Yurielle's face before him. Her hands shifted against his chest, shielding his heart, and the painful squeezing vanished.

Raistlin drew in a ragged breath and started coughing violently. Blood flecked his hands as the fit tore through his lungs. Yurielle helped him sit up to aid with his breathing and slowly rubbed his back.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to get enough air so that his vision began to clear. But his lungs still refused to cooperate properly, even with Yurielle so near. Focusing on her face, he tried to calm them, though it seemed without her voice his body would not obey her pleading looks.

As quickly as she could manage in her injured state, Yurielle left his side and made her way over to the fireplace to make his tea. As she did, the red moonlight through the window shown through her shift, silhouetting her body much the same as the firelight had done months ago in her inn, only this time, it seemed as though she had been dipped in blood.

“ _She IS delicious, isn't she?”_ Fistandantilus purred. The sound of his approval revolted Raistlin. _“Such tasty, wild essence. Her life force will do much for us...”_

Suddenly, the archmage felt powerless against the feelings of want and hunger that Fistandantilus flooded Raistlin with. The lich made no attempt to hide his desire for Yurielle and her wild magic from him, made no secret of what he would do to her if ever he gained control of Raistlin’s body.

The feel of the archlich's intrusion in Raistlin's mind and what the creature seemed to imply made Raistlin recoil in horror. His disgust caught in his airways, again causing his lungs to seize up once again, robbing him of what little oxygen he had managed to collect.

“ _I've been able to enjoy her as well, thanks to you.”_ Raistlin's skin crawled. _“But oh, there is so much more she could give us than just that supple body of hers...”_ the lich continued to hiss, and Raistlin wanted nothing more than to tear the voice from his skull. As if against his will, Raistlin's eyes were drawn to Yurielle, _his_ Yurielle, where she stood near the fire.

His Star was across the room, standing next to the fireplace, her eyes nervously watching him as she waited for the water to heat so that she could make his tea; completely unaware of the turmoil and horror that rolled through her lover as he struggled with this realization of what the thing inside of him wanted from her. As he watched her, it appeared to the archmage that the shadows around Yurielle started to writhe and reach out for her. At the same time the whole room seemed to be tinted red with Lunitari's light, creating the illusion of tiny glowing eyes waiting in the shadows for their prey.

The archmage squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the hideous sight. It was the first time that Raistlin could remember the archlich playing with his thoughts in such a way.

Raistlin could feel Fistandantilus shift through them, picking each apart. He had never felt so vulnerable and exposed in all his life.

“ _You thought I was weakened?”_ Fistandantilus asked in surprise as he read Raistlin's memories, being none to gentle with doing so and causing pain to flare within the archmage's skull. All Raistlin could do was to try and stop his coughing fit as the lich poked and prodded at his exposed soul, but he was unable to reinforce the barriers around his thoughts. “ _Foolish boy! Years we have been linked and still you think that I am just a shadow to be banished because you found some light?”_ Raistlin's brain tickled uncomfortably as the lich laughed.

“ _No, young one, events are now in motion. You cannot stop this!”_ Fistandantilus gave one last quick squeeze of his heart and Raistlin's whole chest convulsed before Yurielle was suddenly in front of him, holding a steaming mug of his tea up to his lips.

Raistlin drank the bitter concoction that never failed to ease his coughing and the spasm finally began to fully subside. As it did, Raistlin felt himself finally regain control of his thoughts. Pushing the archlich from his mind, he locked the creature away again.

Fistandantilus did not resist this time.

His eyes focused to find Yurielle was sitting next to him. Her hands were on his chest as his lungs calmed. Raistlin drew strength from her presence as he further reinforced the barriers he had _thought_ had always been sufficient in containing the lich.

After many minutes Raistlin set the empty mug down on the side table. “Thank you, Yurielle,” he croaked, his voice hoarse from the intensity of the fit. He hadn't coughed like that in weeks and the act had ravaged his throat.

She brushed his sweat damp hair away from his face, her eyes large and worried.

“I'm alright now,” he replied to her silent question. “The spasm has passed.”

Searching for a moment, Yurielle found her piece of paper and quickly dabbed the quill in the ink and wrote: _“You haven't coughed that bad in a very long time. Have you been taking your tincture?”_

“Yes, Yurielle, I still take it,” he stated, his voice stronger now.

“ _Maybe you need to increase the-”_ His hand over hers stopped her writing.

“This wasn't caused by my usual malady.” He met her gaze and Yurielle understood the gravity of what was really happening.

“ _Fistandantilus?”_ she wrote.

He nodded and Yurielle crinkled the paper in her hand in anger and threw it across the room.

“Indeed,” he replied in agreement to her silent outburst.

She turned back to him, her eyes shimmering with concern. He could see it there within those dark, soulful depths of indigo. She wanted to fix this, wanted to free him this very instant. Just as he had wanted to free her from the ravaging of Takhisis, the knowledge that there was nothing she could do to help him with this was agony for her.

Raistlin coughed lightly as a small tickle remained in his airway. Stopping Yurielle from making more tea, he said, “Don't bother. He's gone quiet now.” He slumped back against the pillows and rubbed his eyes. After a moment he looked back at her and said, “I find that I am wide awake now. Do you feel well enough to join me in the study?”

Yurielle nodded and silently gathered her dressing gown from the end of the bed. Raistlin helped her into it before he put his own robe over his sleeping clothes. He waited patiently while Yurielle collected her papers, quill and inkwell before following him slowly out of the door and into the study. She was still weak and walked with some difficulty, but each day the bruises faded and more of her strength returned.

Together they reached the sitting area in front of the fireplace. The hearth was cold as the fire had burnt itself out, leaving the room chilled. Spring was close at hand but winter seemed reluctant to release its hold over Palanthas as, through the still frost covered windows, Raistlin noted that low clouds were gathering on the slowly lightening horizon.

The sliver of Solinari was falling below the rim of mountains beyond the city. Lunitari's face, now full, was beginning to be obscured by the thick clouds as the late winter storm rolled in. Nuitari was nowhere to be seen.

The cold air of the room tickled Raistlin's throat, causing him to cough again as he began to gather a few small logs from the pile near the wall. The small stack had begun to dwindle, reminding him that he missed Dalamar and the elf's constant checking on such mundane things.

Yurielle settled down onto the sofa while Raistlin worked to relight the fire.

“Tea?” he asked once the fire was blazing, chasing away the cold and lingering shadows. She nodded and he began preparing the tea he had concocted for her that soothed her throat. He made another cup of his usual while he was at it.

While they steeped, Raistlin went and retrieved a few spellbooks he felt the urge to look through. The sudden whispering of Fistandantilus left him feeling far too unprepared for his liking. Yurielle was watching him as he made his way silently around the study, worried by her new lover's uncharacteristic lack of focus and usual calm.

Something had happened that he was not telling her. Something that Fistandantilus said or did had struck the already taut cord that Takhisis had thrummed inside of him and because of this Raistlin was almost jittery with nervous energy.

When he finally came to her side to join her on the sofa, she lifted the edge of the blanket she had draped over her legs, inviting him to share its warmth. The corners of the archmage's golden lips lifted in a small smile and he accepted her simple offer. Settling in next to her, he allowed Yurielle to press her side against his. He watched as she wrote on the paper: _“Will you tell me about your dream?”_

Raistlin blinked at her, realizing that he must have reacted more than he had thought if she knew his coughing fit had been brought on by a nightmare of his own. Gently he brushed away a strand of hair that had worked its way out of her braid before saying, “No, Yurielle, not now. I'm trying to sort through it myself.”

“ _It may help you feel better.”_

He shook his head. “I do not remember much,” he evaded her suggestion, but Yurielle caught the way his skin paled slightly. Her forehead wrinkled and he knew that she did not believe him. “...Except the sound of screaming. They were the screams of his victims, Yurielle. That is what woke me.”

Yurielle reached up and gently touched his face with the back of her fingers. Then she wrote: _“The Bloodstone?”_

“It is still within the Tower. But not nearby,” was all he would say. “With everything going on lately, I will admit I have not had much time to study it,” he confessed. That much was true. The last time he held it had been in Yurielle's room after he had offered to use it to heal her from the crossbow bolt. Her reaction to the artifact quickly turned him off of the notion and he had stored it away up in the laboratory under heavy spells.

“Where is the black stone from the Guardian?” he asked, meeting her eyes.

“ _In the Tower, but not nearby.”_ Was her written response.

His lips quirked up. Even unable to speak, Yurielle could convey herself quite well. Raistlin even could imagine the sarcasm in the tone she would have used to reply if she could have. She had tried to say a few words yesterday, but her torn vocal cords only made the most horrible sound and she instantly gave up knowing that for them to heal properly, she needed to stay silent. But gods, how he missed the sweet melody of her voice...

“Fair enough,” he replied then ran his hand along the side of her face. “Rest if you wish, Yurielle. I find that I am restless and want to read my spellbooks.”

She eyed his selection. _“Those are Fistandantilus' books,”_ she wrote.

Indeed they were, Raistlin realized with a strange, detached feeling. Suddenly, in a rush of anger, he shoved them off the sofa. The firelight flashed on the silver runes as they fell out of sight and the archmage let the dark blue books clatter to the floor, something he would never have let happen before meeting Yurielle. Those books were some of his most treasured sources of knowledge. But now he loathed the very sight of them.

The smoldering look of anger in his eyes vanished the moment he met Yurielle's again. Raistlin let out a breath of frustration. “I hadn't realized I grabbed his and not mine,” he confessed. “He's been whispering again...”

This made Yurielle's eyes widen in alarm. _“What has he been saying?”_

“Just his usual mind tricks,” he replied.

“ _Will you share what he said?”_

“No.”

Yurielle frowned at him.

“Ten years he has been in my head Yurielle. His words do not matter now that I see his motives. Nothing he says concerns me,” he lied. Everything about what the archlich had just revealed to Raistlin concerned him.

Yurielle studied Raistlin's face for many long heartbeats, trying to read through the stoic mask he was wearing now. She knew that he was not being truthful to her and his actions did nothing but reinforce her suspicions. Something that Fistandantilus had said had done more than unnerve him; Raistlin looked almost like he was afraid.

Instead of hounding him about it, the act of which she knew would get her nowhere, Yurielle turned back to her paper and wrote: _“Tell me something else then.”_

Raistlin arched an eyebrow at her, clearly unsure of what she meant.

“ _Tell me about yourself Raistlin Majere,”_ she wrote and smiled up at him, hoping a change of subject would ease his mind. _“After all, I really don't know YOU.”_

“There isn't much to tell,” he stated, his brow furrowing. This wasn't a direction in the conversation he had been expecting.

“ _Bullshit!”_ She underlined it when he frowned at her but her smile was playful. _“Tell me...”_ she thought a moment, the tip of the quill tapping the paper as she thought. _“Tell me of when you first were drawn to study the arcane. When did you first feel the call of the magic?”_

A tiny smile tugged at Raistlin's lips as memories flooded him. No one had ever asked him that question. His eyes met Yurielle's and the archmage was compelled to lean down and kiss her mouth. “I love you, Yurielle. You know that, right?”

Confusion filled her face and she wrote: _“Yes I know. I love you too Raistlin...”_

“No one has ever cared to ask me about my magic,” he began. “I grew up in Solace,” he continued after a small pause to allow her to get comfortable next to him. “It's a town with little acceptance of magic or of things outside the 'normal' way most people live their lives. Magic and the unknown were looked down upon with suspicion and mistrust.”

He shifted on the sofa to get more comfortable and Yurielle nuzzled against him. Wrapping his arm around her, he held her against his side. “I was around five years old when Kitiara took us to a traveling fair.”

Raistlin paused when she wrote: _“Kitiara?”_

“My half-sister, Kitiara uth Matar, also known as the Blue Lady,” he explained.

Yurielle's eyes widened. _“Your sister is a Dragon Highlord?!”_

He nodded with an amused smirk at her reaction. “I see this is not well known since the War?”

She shook her head at him, her eyes still wide.

“I guess there _are_ a few things about me that you do not know,” he said. “I could tell you that story if you wish.”

Yurielle thought a moment. _“Perhaps next. But now I want to hear about when you felt the call of magic.”_

Raistlin couldn't keep the smile from his face as he studied her features. Truly - _finally_ \- someone who understood him. Someone who shared his love for the magic; someone who viewed it with the same awe and reverence as he did. Yurielle was dedicated to the art and her strange connection to the wild magic made her all the more alluring and beautiful to the eyes of Raistlin Majere.

She was his kindred soul.

Holding this fact close to his heart, he let this knowledge warm him from within as he told her the story of when he first saw the 'Wonderful Waylan' and his traveling act. “Most of what he did was nothing but sleight of hand tricks and minor illusions,” Raistlin explained. “But, to the mind of a five year old, they were true magic,” he said and before Yurielle's eyes, a large coin suddenly appeared in Raistlin's hands.

She watched, fascinated as he moved his dexterous fingers, allowing the coin to dance along his knuckles. With a flourish the coin vanished only for Raistlin to 'pull' it out from behind one of her ears.

Yurielle's mouth dropped open, causing Raistlin to chuckle at her wide-eyed, childlike expression. “Surly you are not that impressed.”

“ _I know that it's just a simple trick Raistlin,”_ she wrote. _“But for_ you _to know how to do that so well is surprising!”_

He merely shrugged and deftly flicked the coin into the air and caught it again. Quickly it disappeared into a hidden pocket too fast for Yurielle to see where he actually put it. “I was able to solve much of what the man did just by watching him and could reproduce the tricks later that same night. Even some of his illusions were simple enough cantrips for me to see through and copy. But, believing it was magic, I wanted to learn more. It was Kitiara who saw my potential and sought out a mage who was passing through Solace. She knew Caramon would be able to fend for himself once she left us. But me...” he shrugged again.

Yurielle searched his face for several moments before turning back to her paper: _“Were you close with your sister?”_

Raistlin shook his head. “Kitiara was several years older than us and born from our mother's first husband. However, she was responsible for making sure that I did not die after being born. So I suppose you could say that I owe her my life. But, rest assured, that debt has been repaid.”

Yurielle tilted her head to the side and waited for him to continue.

The archmage took a slow breath. He had never told anyone about his birth. The only ones that knew the story that were still alive were his twin and Kitiara. But, Raistlin knew that he had nothing to fear from Yurielle knowing and so, he would open this one small door into his past for her. “I was born many minutes after my brother. Our mother's labor had already been long and difficult. Because of this, she had very little strength left for me. It complicated matters that I was breech.”

Yurielle was listening to him patiently, her eyes fixed on his face, her hands holding his in hers, reassuring him that he had her full attention. “When I finally emerged,” Raistlin continued, “I was not breathing. It was Kitiara who managed to force me to take my first breaths. The midwife expected me to die within hours and gave me up for a lost cause. Kitiara refused to let me die out of spite.”

Yurielle watched Raistlin's face as he retold the story of his birth and talked about the half-sister who refused to give up on him. “My mother was weak and even then was rarely lucid from her visions and her pregnancy with twins left her in one of her states for quite some time after we were born. It was Kitiara who, deciding that I would live, forced me to suckle on goats milk to ensure that I got nutrients. Caramon was healthy and did well so there was no need to fuss over him. I however,” he waved a hand in front of himself as if to showcase his frailties. “I was not given much to work with from the very start.”

Yurielle turned back to her paper: _“Yet here you are - Hero of the Lance, Archmagus of a Tower of High Sorcery, Master of the Past and Present. A man feared by many yet who has the love of Yurielle.”_

He offered her a tiny smile. “Yes, I suppose you are right in all of that.”

She nuzzled against his side again and sipped at her tea while Raistlin watched the fire for several minutes in silence. His mind went back to Fistandantilus' whispers as well as the knowledge that yes, he was all those things that Yurielle claimed. But he couldn't help but wonder what other events the lich had influenced during his life...

Shoving those thoughts from his mind, Raistlin instead focused on the one thing he knew that he himself had done. It was the last thing that Yurielle had mentioned; the fact that he had her love. Not for the first time in these past days Raistlin found himself pausing to think about his current situation. There was still a small, infinitesimal part of himself that refused to accept that somehow, this beautiful woman in his arms did indeed love him. He glanced down at her to where she now lay with her head resting against his chest, listening to his heart beat, and marveled that she was here in his life during this pivotal part where he would have pursued godhood. She was the boulder in the path that had caused him to look for another way, and this new way was completely different and unexpected.

As he gazed at the side of her face, watching as her eyelids began to droop close as her weariness caught up with her, he knew that he no longer wanted to follow that other timeline. He did not want godhood. It was a foolish endeavor that would only end in misery for all involved. Fistandantilus had wanted it and it had led to the lich's demise.

However, it seemed that not even death could not stop the lich in the end. Fistandantilus still wanted godhood and had used Raistlin as a puppet for long enough in pursuit of this goal. Raistlin was sick of the leech and was determined, for both himself as well as for Yurielle, to sever the link.

Even if it ended up killing him, Raistlin would be free of this thing attached to him. Whatever bargain he had made with the archlich, it was not worth putting Yurielle in harm's way.

The more Raistlin thought about it, the more he was convinced that something had happened during his Test, something besides what he had done to the illusion of his twin...

But try as he might, the archmage could not dredge up the memory. He felt as if he had known at one time, but it had been tucked away once more, locked behind some wall that Fistandantilus himself had put up. The notion that there were more things he didn't even know where locked away irritated Raistlin to no end.

If Fistandantilus was able to force himself through the walls that Raistlin had put up, surely there must be a way for him to do so as well. If there were memories that the archlich had stolen and hidden, then there had to be a way to get them back.

Holding Yurielle against his chest, Raistlin vowed that he would do everything in his power to free himself. Every ambition up to this point had been driven by bitterness and a need to dominate others. But now, because of whom he held in his arms, his whole world had shifted. He suddenly felt like he wanted to live his life for someone else. It was a new and strange feeling but it was one that Raistlin Majere was willing to embrace.

 

***

 

A prickling on the nape of his neck informed the archmage that his apprentice had teleported back to the Tower. His eyes glanced up from the tome he had long forgotten in his silent reverie to check that Yurielle was still asleep on the sofa. Raistlin had spent every hour while she was asleep, as well as a few when she was not, with going through the tomes and spellbooks of Fistandantilus in hopes that there would be some clue as to why the archlich was attached to Raistlin and how they could get rid of him. Yurielle had insisted on helping him look for answers today.

Stubbornly she had thrown obscene gestures his way when he tried to argue or stop her from helping. In his mind, she needed to rest, not pour through dark tomes and risk bringing further harm to herself. But, true to her stubborn streak that Raistlin was quickly learning ran quite deep, Yurielle refused to sit by while there was breath in her body to help him. Growing weary of battling with her, Raistlin finally gave in.

However, she had soon fallen asleep not long after joining him in the study. The book lay next to her on the sofa, barely touched. Going to her side, Raistlin took the tome out from under her hand, closed it, and set it on the table next to her. She mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over onto her back, coming to rest against the back of the sofa. Gently, Raistlin brushed the hair away from her face.

He sighed quietly to himself as he beheld her cherished features. Gods how he loved her!

As these past few days had worn on, Raistlin's admiration and affection for Yurielle only grew. He craved being next to her, sought her out and grew anxious if he was away from her for too long. Every thought was bent on keeping her safe from Fistandantilus and his instincts told him that the safest place was away from him. But Raistlin wanted that least of all.

He feared Takhisis would return to her if he sent her away. But he also feared what the growing presence and influence of Fistandantilus in him meant. Raistlin's gut twisted at seeing her hurt because she had become tangled in his life. Everything had become far more complicated now that he had a heart. He had once only known that being human wasn't a simple thing; now he was learning the depths of this truth.

They were one now, in body, heart and soul. Now that he knew what it was to love and to be loved in return, Raistlin knew that this was all he wanted.

All he had _ever_ wanted.

“Gods, I'm getting as bad as Caramon,” he grumbled quietly to himself, thinking about how sentimental he was becoming all of a sudden. Then he berated himself yet again for thinking of his estranged twin. That was becoming an annoying occurrence as well.

Shaking his head, Raistlin exited his study and made his way to the library where he knew his apprentice would come to look for him. It only took a few moments for Raistlin to arrive there and indeed he found the dark elf standing in the middle of the vast room near the main table.

“Shalafi,” Dalamar bowed.

Raistlin nodded. “Welcome back, Dalamar. How goes things at Wayreth?”

The archmage did not miss the quick scan those almond eyes did of the space behind his master, as if Dalamar were expecting Yurielle to appear behind him. “Things are going as well as can be expected. Turmoil, unrest, anger...” The elf shrugged. “There is much worry about what the return of the wild magic means. And, I may add, many do not appreciate that you have taken the only known Sorcerer back with you as if you own her. There are many who whisper that you did not take a seat among the Conclave because you plan to weave a new Order of your own.”

Raistlin sighed and shook his head wearily as he came to the elf's side. “Fools...” He rubbed at his eyes.

Dalamar arched an eyebrow as he noticed how tired Raistlin appeared. It didn't seem to be the kind of exhaustion that came from lack of sleep or strenuous activity. This weariness was something of the mind and soul; something was wrong. “I sense that something has happened. You do not appear to be as happy as I had expected you would be after spending nearly a week alone with the object of your desires.”

Raistlin shot the elf a hard glare. Dalamar held his master's golden gaze unflinchingly. A tiny, knowing smirk played at the corners of the elf's mouth.

The archmage snorted. “Indeed. But you were wrong about one thing, apprentice,” he said as he sat down at the table. Taking in the array of books the elf had brought with him, Raistlin continued: “A rut in the leaves does nothing to clear the head; especially when the Dark Goddess decides to get involved.”

The dark elf's eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. “I cannot even begin to pretend to understand what you mean.”

“Takhisis came to Yurielle. Marked her with her touch and in no uncertain terms reminded me that I belong to her and no one else.”

Dalamar sucked in a breath. “Yurielle... is she...?”

“She is healing,” Raistlin stated. “I was forced to take her to the Temple of Paladine. Revered Daughter Crysania removed the unholy agony that the Goddess put on Yurielle's body but it has left her drained. That was four days ago and still she sleeps most of the time.”

The apprentice took his usual seat at the other end of the table from Raistlin as he absorbed this new information.

“There is more,” the archmage said slowly. “The main Guardian here was some sort of extension of Fistandantilus. That is why it tried to attack her that one day when she first arrived. She was out in the Grove and it _did_ attack her this time.” The mage, still visibly shaken by the event, closed his eyes. “I cannot explain what all happened. But...” Raistlin shook his head. Gods, he was tired. “Let's just say Yurielle's twin made an appearance and destroyed the wraith. A stone was left behind. Black as night and cracked down the-”

“Was it about the size of the Bloodstone of Fistandantilus?” Dalamar cut the other mage off.

“Yes. You found information then?” Raistlin leaned forward, hopeful.

“Not much on Fistandantilus specifically,” Dalamar confessed. “But Sisne, bless her white robed heart, took it upon herself to find information on other lichs and necromancers through the eons. Many, it would seem, enjoy splintering themselves and sealing parts of their essence into more than one container. The more powerful the being, the more objects they use as phylacteries in order to ensure that they would never truly be destroyed. They made sure that they would always have a foothold in the physical world.”

Raistlin nodded. “Of course...” His eyes narrowed. “I should have known what it was when I saw it.” He leaned back in his chair, thinking.

“Do you have this stone with you?”

“No,” Raistlin stirred. “Yurielle took it and has it somewhere. To be honest I have not given it much thought besides seeing what I may find in Fistandantilus' own journals and spellbooks. I do not know where she put it.”

“What of the other Guardians? Are they still within the Grove?” Dalamar asked.

Raistlin shook his head. “No. Not that I can find. They seem to be gone. Yurielle said she thought she had seen them near Par-Salian during the battle with the Conclave. She thought them destroyed by our spell but the Guardian states they have gone. How or where to, I have no idea.”

Again Raistlin rubbed at his eyes. “The arcane-hunter... she was destroyed during Yurielle's confrontation with the Guardian as well. The fearful presence of the Grove is returning to normal but the amount of undead within it is greatly diminished.”

The dark elf sat back in his chair, deep in thought. “This is troubling news as well. If the other Guardians have left the Tower and the Grove.... if they were near Par-Salian at the moment he was destroyed...” he shook his head, not wanting to think about it. Instead he changed the subject. “You have found nothing so far in all your searches?” Dalamar asked then as he eyed his Shalafi.

“Nothing that is very useful or conclusive,” Raistlin confessed. “Though to be honest I've been a bit preoccupied these past few days repairing the damage the goddess' visit has left on Yurielle.”

Dalamar's eyes softened. “You've accepted that you care for her then?”

Raistlin met the elf's eyes, holding the earthy brown with his gold. “She gave me back my heart Dalamar. 'Care' is a paltry word to describe what I feel for her. Though I fear that her love has not only brought the ire of Takhisis upon her, but I feel a weakened Fistandantilus growing ever more active in my being. We race against two deadly foes that I fear may have become united under one single goal....”

“And that is?”

“Me. One wishes to take my body, the other my soul. Yurielle holds my heart as she balances this flux of magic around us. Both will stop at nothing to use her against me or take her from me.”

Dalamar looked gravely at his master. “This is a most complicated problem indeed.”

“Indeed,” Raistlin nodded. He stirred then, his eyes going to the ceiling where his chambers rested high above them as if he could see her through the thick stone. “So if this black stone was one of the lich's phylacteries, then one would safely assume there are many more hidden in gods only know how many places.”

“So it would seem,” the elf agreed. He motioned to a few of the books that he had brought with him. “These are the more in depth tomes that discuss the matters though I do not know how useful you will find them.”

Raistlin took the top most book and gave it a cursory glance. “I will have Yurielle take a look at them. She is insistent that she's well enough to help.”

“What are her thoughts on all of this?”

“That I cannot begin to guess; she awoke from her visit from the goddess screaming and it left her voice shattered. Like the rest of her body, it will take time to heal.”

Dalamar made a pained face. “That is too bad. If I had known such trials were happening here I would not have taken so long to return.”

Raistlin waved the sentiment away. “There was nothing you could have done. You are of more value as my eyes and ears at Wayreth for the time being.”

“You look weary my Shalafi, is there anything I can do while I am here? I do not need to return immediately,” Dalamar offered sincerely.

The archmage ran a hand through his hair and stood from the table. “I fear I have not been very attentive to the animals in their pens beyond the absolute bare minimum and I haven't stepped foot within the greenhouse... Other than that, I think there is something that I can do for you,” his eyes locked with the elf's. “Stand, apprentice.”

Dalamar obediently stood before Raistlin though his eyes were wary and questioning at the strange request.

“Open your robes.”

At this the elf hesitated but only briefly before he undid the front of his robe and tunic beneath, baring the smooth skin of his chest and the five oozing sores that still seeped after all these months.

Raistlin frowned at the sight of the damage of what he had done out of anger and jealousy. He reached out a hand and the elf involuntarily flinched. Raistlin realized that Dalamar was bracing himself for more pain and his cursed eyes watched as all of the color drained from the elf's face.

The archmage sighed. “Do not fear, Dalamar,” he said quietly as he placed his fingers again over the other mage's chest. Quickly he whispered the incantation that would undo the curse and allow the wounds to heal properly.

Dalamar's eyes widened in surprise once it sank in that there would be no additional pain. In fact, the pain that the wounds still throbbed with lessened considerably. Once Raistlin drew away the elf blinked and looked down at his chest. The wounds were still there, but they did not ooze the way they had and they no longer caused him discomfort. “Shalafi?”

“Do not make me regret removing it.” Raistlin's eyes hardened in threat.

The dark elf bowed and closed his robes. “I have sworn to serve you faithfully and without question my Shalafi. Though I do not understand _why_ you do this...”

Gathering up the books the elf had brought, Raistlin merely gave his apprentice a slight sideways glance. “I laid the curse upon you more out of jealousy than punishment Dalamar. I no longer hold jealousy for what you shared briefly with Yurielle for, I must admit, you taught that mouth of hers well.”

The elf felt himself flush at the odd praise. Unable to form any reply, he merely gawked wide-eyed and open-mouthed as his master took the books and exited the library without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few quick notes I want to add-  
> A phylactery in D&D terms is an object that a lich creates that houses part of their soul or life essence. The lich cannot be defeated as long as the phylactery exists and they often hide and guard it very well to avoid its destruction. Even if the lich is 'killed' they will reform if their phylactery is still intact. (think of Lord Voldermort in Harry Potter and his horcrux's, its the same idea)  
> I'm being quite literal with Fistandantilas being a lich in my story and he was incredibly powerful and, from what I can tell, was alive for thousands of years so in my mind he probably made many such phylacteries.  
> Also it was really fun to go back and read the beginning of the novel 'Dark Heart'. It's a book about Kitiara's youth and it has the birth of the twins in it. If you haven't read it, it's good even just for that part.  
> As always, thank you again for reading. You all are just the best :)


	44. Perfection In Her Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tread carefully adventures, there's a bit of NSFW content ahead! *smirks*

A few nights later, Raistlin entered his bed chambers to find that Yurielle had already fallen asleep. His eyes rested on her where she lay on top of the covers while he quietly set the Staff of Magius in the corner. He wasn't surprised in the least to find her like this, as today had been the longest that she had pushed herself to go through the books that Dalamar had brought from Wayreth. She had even insisted that she was well enough to go down into the library and while there, had endured the one sided banter of the dark elf for several hours. Even though she had tried to hide it, Raistlin had noticed that she was beginning to weaken, at which point he had insisted that she go rest.

Raistlin had stayed in the library for quite some time after her departure to discuss theories with Dalamar before the elf had returned to Wayreth. Now that he was finally back in his bed chambers, he couldn't help but feel a sense of calm wash over him as he quietly came to the side of the bed. Papers and drawing sticks lay scattered around Yurielle, indicating that she had been sketching while waiting for him.

Carefully pulling the sheets out from under her, Raistlin couldn't help but stop and take notice of the newest images that she had drawn.

They were of him.

Snippets of his face, of his eyes, and of his body as they had made love. One image in particular caught his attention. It was a drawing of his eyes. The look in them was open, honest, and conveyed such sadness with the tears that she had replicated along his lashes. A strange feeling filled Raistlin as he looked at proof of his own vulnerability, captured there with perfection.

As he gazed at the images, Raistlin knew that he was looking at himself in the way that Yurielle viewed him. She had told him once that she drew things just as she saw them, and she saw him as something beautiful, he realized as he looked through the dozens of images that she had drawn in the hour or so since she had retired. Yurielle saw him as a man whose body - as hideous and weak as he viewed it himself – was nothing but perfect to her.

The drawings were stunning in their realism and the more he looked at them, the more he marveled at her view of him. Did he really look this way? So ordinary, so... normal?

Truth be told Raistlin never really paid all that much attention to himself. Even when he was young, he had felt ashamed of his body in comparison to his twin's and if he now stared for more than a few moments at himself, all he saw was rot and decay. For ten years his body had been nothing but a husk of deformed tissue to his eyes.

But clearly not to Yurielle's.

Raistlin found himself compelled to study the images of his body further. He knew that he was thin, his body being far more slender compared to other men; especially his twin. Where his twin was rippling cords of bulging muscle, Raistlin was lean and built differently, but, he realized, the difference was not as terrible or off putting as he had thought his whole life.

Yurielle had recreated the lithe muscles and planes along his stomach and chest, his lanky but firm arms and legs in great detail. The lean yet slight tone to all his muscles were by no means what most men possessed, but through Yurielle's eyes, Raistlin saw that he was indeed not the disfigured grotesque that he viewed himself as.

He was shocked to realize that he really _was_ normal.

His eyes fell on Yurielle's sleeping face. She looked peaceful in the low firelight and his heart again did that warming thing inside his chest. But now he knew what caused it and it brought a smile to his face.

Gods, how he _loved_ her!

In that moment Raistlin felt years of self-loathing wither away cast by her view of him. Some dark thoughts made it back into the shadows, for nothing could completely undo the years of self-hate, but just seeing how she viewed him made Raistlin feel like a man worthy of her affections.

A further look through the pages in his hand revealed that she had also drawn what she imagined they must have looked like tangled together on the floor. He could feel his face heat as he stared at himself taking her on the rug.

It had been over a week since they had shared their bodies, but the memories of bringing her pleasure and making her cry out his name were vividly etched in his mind. He could recall the sound of her, the smell and taste of her, the feel of her against him and around him so clearly that Raistlin ached with the want to have it all again. The sensations of what they experienced together that night, the things he had come to understand about her and about himself, were things Raistlin Majere had never thought possible. And gods, if it was a weakness to want such things, to come to terms with allowing another into his life like this, then Raistlin was forced to admit that right now, he was the weakest man on Krynn.

No, he reminded himself, he wasn't weak. He was in love and he was content. Nothing but the magic had ever made him feel even remotely like this. These last few days had been a journey of patience and understanding, and to his surprise Raistlin had immensely enjoyed spending them with Yurielle. Even though she could not speak and they could not express their love physically again just yet, the connection between them had grown, and he wouldn't trade this feeling for any amount of magic in the world.

As he gazed at Yurielle's drawings, Raistlin felt a strange mixture of happiness and shame suddenly come over him while thinking of his 'weakness', of how he had allowed himself to give into his most base desires that night, of how he'd taken her body and buried himself deep inside of her.

But the shame he felt soon melted away as he continued to look at the images until all that remained was the happiness. He realized that it was a natural thing that they had shared that night, a physical expression of their love for one another, and it had been better than he had ever thought possible; perfect even.

Shifting through the pages revealed some of the drawings depicting the two of them sharing the bath, while others were of them on his bed after. Smaller drawings along the margins were of their hands clasped together in passion as they made love. Notes in her secret language were scrawled along the edges of many drawings and Raistlin found that he was curious to know what she had written and why. Someday he hoped to learn her language, just as he hoped to learn everything about her.

Nearing the end of the small collection, he noticed that in some images Yurielle clearly had let her imagination go. She had drawn their bodies tangled in ways he had never considered. He felt his loins ache at the sight of her on top of him with her head thrown back in ecstasy.

His eyes widened at seeing what Yurielle apparently had on her mind because he knew that they certainly had not done that position yet! Raistlin's eyes darted to her sleeping form and found that it was all he could do to not rip every shred of clothing off of her that very instant and make her fantasy real.

But Raistlin also knew that she needed her rest more than she needed his sudden demands to sate his desires. He took a long, slow breath. There would be time enough for pleasure once she had recovered in both body and mind.

The archmage knew in his soul that Yurielle was far too precious to him to ever cause her pain. Her bruises were healing well but he had seen firsthand how they still ached and hurt her if touched wrong.

Raistlin had spent his whole life denying himself gratification and pleasures of the flesh and he could do so again until she was healed from her traumatizing ordeal. So, calling upon his rock hard will, he continued his slow breathing and forced himself to calm while looking through her drawings.

They were his only glimpse into her private mind and he found them both fascinating and deeply touching.

What he saw on the next page, however, instantly froze his hot blood. Yurielle had drawn the Queen of Darkness when she had visited her. The image was blurry and Raistlin understood all too well that the mortal had a hard time recalling the features of a god. To depict this, Yurielle had smeared the image with clumps of charcoal to obscure much of it. But the shadowy forms of five dragon heads attached to a body so perfect meant that it could only be the Seductress herself.

Takhisis had straddled Yurielle and so she had drawn the encounter from her own perspective, pinned helplessly beneath her. Remembering Yurielle's absolute terror upon waking, Raistlin had the urge to tear his way into the Abyss to get his revenge. No one, not even a god, had any right to invades someone's mind in this way!

“Raistlin...?” Yurielle's soft voice called to him. It was the first word she had uttered so clearly since losing her voice, and the sound of it evaporated his turmoil.

“I did not mean to wake you, Yurielle,” he said softly and finished gathering the other items from around her and placed them on the table. Once that task was complete, he sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the tangled hair from her face. “How do you feel?”

She smiled at him sleepily. “I told you, I'm fine.” Her voice cracked but it was indeed improving quickly, much to his delight. “It's late... come to bed.”

He leaned forward and kissed her. “As you command, my love.”

She smiled and watched silently as he removed his robe, boots, and tunic. Raistlin stopped at his pants, his eyes darted up to meet hers when he paused. They hadn't played with one another since that first night, and seeing her drawings had very much brought the want to do so again into the forefront of Raistlin's mind. He had touched her naked skin to apply the healing ointment to her bruises, but no amount of pouting or sneaky maneuvers on her part had been able to convince him to do anything more.

The look he gave her reminded her of this fact. They both wanted one another, wanted desperately to learn more about the other, and it was obvious to Yurielle that her drawings had an impact on Raistlin. Even though his look said 'no, we should wait', his body very much had other wishes, judging by the bulge in his pants. He looked torn in that moment, as well as uncertain, and Yurielle was afraid he was a heartbeat away from simply leaving the room in order to avoid any temptations.

Offering him an alluring smile that she hoped wasn't too mischievous, she slid to the edge of the bed in front of him to sit at eye level with his stomach. Looking up at him, she shocked him by running her tongue over the exposed metallic skin around his navel. Raistlin gasped involuntarily and jerked away but her hands held his hips, stopping him from retreating.

“You...” Yurielle whispered, her breath tingling against the now damp skin. “Your skin tastes like magic,” she purred as she continued to kiss and work the flesh along his stomach with her mouth and tongue as he looked on, bewitched. Raistlin's body, like it had in that moment a few days ago when Yurielle had tried to seduce him, instantly reacted.

“You've been so good to me.” She looked up at him again, trapping him with her gaze. “I want to do something for you. If you'll let me,” she whispered, her voice still breaking slightly.

His confused look turned into disbelief as she started untying his trousers. “Yurielle...?”

“My gift to you tonight,” she said softly and pushed the cloth down to free him. Before he could even draw another breath, she had flicked her warm, wet tongue against the soft metallic skin, humming in approval as she finally tasted him.

A groan tore itself from deep within Raistlin. It was a low and primal sound as he quickly hardened further under her touch. His breath caught when she took him fully into her mouth.

“Gods, Yuri!” he cried, burying his hands in her hair as her tongue did things he had never thought possible.

Raistlin nearly collapsed as his knees went weak from the waves of pleasure washing over him. In response to him struggling to keep standing, Yurielle pulled him from her mouth with an indecent slurp just as his legs gave out.

She watched, amused and transfixed, as he fell down against the edge of the bed, moving at the last instant so that he didn't land on anything important. Snarling in irritation at the trousers that had tripped him up, Raistlin attempted to kick them from his legs as he pulled himself up onto the bed.

Yurielle couldn't help but giggle – the sound coming out as an adorable squeak to Raistlin's ears - as the archmage struggled to rid himself of the wad of stubborn fabric while he moved up higher on the bed towards the pillows. Grabbing his pants from around his ankles, Yurielle gave them a hard tug and flung them away.

“Thank the gods!” Raistlin rasped lowly as he rolled onto his back only to find Yurielle hovering over him, her eyes were bright and eager as they met his. The hunger in them made his blood run even hotter.

“Shall I continue?” she asked him, her smirk delicious and seductive as she positioned herself over his legs, pinning them beneath her.

Raistlin's eyes widened and his breath caught again at her proposal. The very thought of more of what she had just done to him sent his heart skipping wildly in his chest. Gods, _YES!_

“Please...” was the only word he managed to utter in response.

Slowly, almost unbearably so, Yurielle lowered her mouth back down to his abdomen. Softly she kissed his skin, trailing a wet line down his body with her lips and tongue. Groaning loudly, Raistlin watched as she took him in her mouth again, her dancing tongue blessing him with the seductive elven kiss. Golden hands clawed at the bed linens as he panted, barely able to draw breath. He wanted to continue watching as she devoured him, but his eyes rolled into his head as his back arched off the surface of the bed.

Gods, her tongue! Reversing the curse on the dark elf was clearly not enough! Raistlin wasn't just going to thank Dalamar for teaching her mouth this skill that she had found a new talent for he'd... he'd... oh... oh GODS!

“Yuri...!” he screamed her name, unable to keep his thoughts coherent as she quickly brought him over the edge.

The archmage lay there panting while Yurielle wiped her mouth sheepishly. “So that's what magic tastes like,” she said as best as her voice would allow.

Her eyes met his; they were glittering at him brightly, reminding him vaguely of a cat who had gotten away with something naughty but was too cute to reprimand for it - and knew it.

Raistlin chuckled at the thought. He should clearly do something about what she had just done, but he could only lay there. The most powerful archmage in all of Krynn was reduced to a pile of skin and bones all because of that mouth of hers! It was almost laughably ridiculous how much power this woman had over him – and, like the cat, she knew it.

While the archmage contemplated this, Yurielle was smiling down at him, clearly satisfied that she had taken him so off guard and had been able to please him so thoroughly. Finally she crawled up alongside of him and Raistlin accepted her into his arms, though he did so with great care as to not touch her bruises. Lovingly he kissed the top of her head. “You are full of mischief, aren't you?” he asked groggily.

“You don't want to touch me,” her voice broke. “But you said nothing about me touching you!” she whispered with a smirk as she began to gather the blankets from around the bed and pulled them up to cover them.

“I want to touch you...” Raistlin said softly but was interrupted by a yawn and his eyes closed involuntarily. Gods, he was tired! Her little surprise had utterly drained what energy he had remaining.

“Then touch me,” Yurielle breathed and ran her lips along his neck, making his skin tingle. “I'm not a fragile doll. You won't break me.”

“Your bruises are not normal,” the archmage said firmly, pulling his face away from that nimble mouth of hers. “They will take longer than normal to not cause you pain.” And to demonstrate he very lightly pressed on the one that lay along her ribs.

Yurielle hissed and tried not to jump away from the feather light contact but Raistlin had proven his point. It still hurt to be touched and she knew that he was right. Even though the marks were beginning to fade, any small bump or contact was still painful. Even putting on clothing was a challenge when having to take care not to brush against the areas.

“I'm sorry,” Raistlin kissed the side of her head in apology. “Sleep now, Yurielle. There will be no more of your shenanigans tonight.” The tone of his voice put an end to the conversation but his golden eyes twinkled down at her from where she lay tucked against his chest. “Be content with the fact that you have absolutely slain me. Even if you were well, I don't think I'd be able to keep up with you tonight,” he said, his words were sluggish as he fought sleep through the haze of pleasure and weariness.

Yurielle arched up and met his mouth with a tender kiss of her own. “You've been pushing yourself too hard on my account, archmage.” She lightly ran a hand down his cheek. “Rest well and regain your strength. Because once I _am_ well, I think you'll find sleep hard to come by,” she grinned playfully at him.

“Gods help me,” Raistlin couldn't help but mumble as he drifted off to sleep.

 

***

 

Raistlin awoke late the next morning, much later than he had slept in a very, very long time. He blinked with hazy eyes at the bright morning light streaming in around the curtains on the windows.

Yurielle appeared in the door leading to the washroom; dressed in simple leggings and a loose tunic and combing out her long hair. As she approached him, Raistlin noticed that her mouth was working at something in it. Seeing him looking at her, Yurielle chewed quickly and swallowed. “Morning, sleepy head!” She still croaked, but her voice was much stronger today. Her smile was infectious; her dimples deep on her cheeks, and her eyes were twinkling.

Raistlin rubbed his eyes again and offered a mumbled, “G'morning,” as she came to stand next to the bed.

She went to kiss him and Raistlin accepted her lips against his. Yurielle gasped when the archmage ran his own tongue over hers and she couldn't stop the giggle that escaped her from his overly eager kiss. Suddenly Raistlin drew away from her, a questioning look spreading across his face. “That wasn't a mint leaf...” he stated. Though somewhat minty, whatever herb she had eaten had a very different aftertaste, and he had gotten a mouthful of it.

Yurielle laughed at the look on his face. “Sorry, I guess I’ve just gotten used to it. I usually drink some tea right after.”

“Argh! Gods, what _is_ it?” His face contorted in sudden disgust as the flavor began to turn sour and also extremely bitter. His eyes began to water from the sudden assault on his taste buds.

“Wombs Echo, or also known as Spinsters Laugh,” she informed him. The days of not using it had done it good and Raistlin was glad even though he wanted to gag from the taste in his mouth.

“ICK!” the archmage peevishly wiped his tongue with the back of his hand in a vain attempt to banish the horrid taste. “Why in the Abyss...?”

“Chewing it daily keeps a man's seed from taking hold,” Yurielle patiently explained, blushing just slightly as she did so.

Raistlin froze; unmoving, unblinking and looked as if he were made of stone, the back of hand still against his mouth.

The expression on his face startled Yurielle. “Raistlin, are you okay?”

He looked horror-struck. “I... I...”

“What's the matter, Raistlin?” She rested her hands on his shoulders.

“I could have gotten you _pregnant_!” he breathed, horrified.

Yurielle put her hands on her hips and scoffed. “Of course you could have! Raistlin, I know you've never been with a woman but I'll clue you in on a little something...” She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Sex is how babies are made!”

Raistlin's eyes snapped to hers. Scowling, he said, “I know how babies are made!” He held the scowl for a few more moments while she just shook her head at him. Soon his face softened. “I didn't even consider the ramifications of us...” His hand reached out and he touched her reverently over her abdomen, right above that sacred place that could create life.

Yurielle smiled and took his hand in hers. “Luckily for you I'm the practical sort and started the herb when I first got here. I only missed a few days here and there, but it is a fast acting remedy, only taking a short time to begin its work and manages to stick around for a while if doses are missed. Besides, I wasn't near my fertile time when we...” She blushed again and gave a small embarrassed chuckle that sounded more like a squeak. “So I think we managed to avoid any surprises.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “You seem uncomfortable speaking about such things.”

She shrugged. “Most men don't enjoy hearing about a woman's cycle. But now that I've started this herb that won't be an issue either.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “I figured it was the easiest precaution to take, and since you so generously gifted me so much coin, it was simple to afford a hefty supply. You should have seen the look on the herbalists face!”

Raistlin could about imagine it. Though he did know that the herb had other uses besides changing a woman's body to avoid pregnancies, it was an expensive herb as the plant was very delicate to grow and only did so in a few places on Krynn. Few had access to it or the luxury to use it.

“You seem to have put some thought into this. Was it your plan all along to seduce me, my sweet Yurielle?” he teased and couldn't help but be relieved and grateful that she had thought of this extremely important fact of life.

“I guess I wanted to be prepared just in case, because I've wanted you for a long while, Raistlin,” she said softly. “But I never knew that you'd be interested in me. I was convinced that you saw me as nothing more than a corpse.”

“I did tell you...” he stated yet again but he couldn't help but feel a little remorse for being so untruthful to her.

“I know,” she sighed. “I guess I thought you were talking metaphorically! You do tend to speak cryptically when it suits you.”

He merely shrugged, unable to deny it as he pulled her closer to him.

“Would you still have fallen in love with me if I looked as others do to you?” she asked even though she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

Raistlin's eyes met hers. “Yes.” Came his firm response. He had contemplated this very question many times since meeting Yurielle and he knew in his soul that he would still have fallen in love with her if she were subject to his curse.

A smiled touched her lips. Yurielle didn't need to know his reasons for believing he'd still love her, because she believed him no matter what. “Even if I were just a corpse to you, I would have been able to deal with it because I just wanted you to touch me. When you were tending to my shoulder, your hands were so gentle. I wanted you to keep going, even though my body was in agony... the thought of you stopping hurt me more.”

“I've wanted to touch you since that first day in the Library,” Raistlin confessed. “I wanted you so badly that, for a long while, I was convinced that I had gone mad. I'm usually good at forcing any physical urges down.” He ran his fingers over hers as he spoke; he couldn't get his fill of touching her now that he knew it was allowed.

“When you began to display a want of my affections I...” He shook his head. “I had always thought these things weak, that the need for flesh was below me.” Raistlin brought a hand of hers up to his lips and kissed her palm. “I was wrong, Yurielle. You've awoken a deeper power within me. It may be new, but it has made me stronger.”

She smiled down at him. “Is Raistlin Majere admitting to me that he is in fact, just human?”

He scoffed. “If it pleases you, then I guess I am.”

“Well since you are just a man, you are capable of what all men are capable of doing when it comes to the flesh and passing on his seed. So fear not, my Darkness. No children will come sprouting out of me anytime soon!” she said playfully.

The sound of her voice was off but the squeaking and breaking of it was endearing to the archmage and he couldn't help but smirk at her. Laying his hand over her stomach again he gently rubbed there while his gaze became abstracted, seemingly lost in thought.

“Speak your mind, Raistlin,” she said as she ran her hands lovingly through the tangle of his white hair, still messy from sleep.

“Merely pondering, Yurielle,” he sighed as she played with his hair. He loved this new feeling of her hands on his scalp.

“Would you... ever want a child?” she asked quietly as she worked gently at a small tangle in the snow white locks. For such fine hair, it quickly filled with snags, she thought while she worked.

Raistlin paused before slowly looking up into her face once more, his eyes growing wide as the thought sank in. “To be completely honest, Yurielle...” He shook his head as if bewildered by the very question. “This is the very first time I have ever given it thought. I had long ago accepted that I'd never taste pleasures of the flesh, much less fall in love. Yet here I sit. Now you ask me about children? I'm still reeling from the fact I actually _had_ sex to begin with! Having a child is a strange and terrifying thought...”

“Strange maybe, but terrifying?”

“Can you see _me_ as a father?” he asked bitterly. Those scornful lines on his face returned.

Yurielle traced his cherished face in a vain effort to smooth those lines away. But they were too deep, he had worn them for far too long so now they were nearly always there. Only restful sleep and deep contentment released them. As her fingers ran along his warm skin her mind wandered and became lost in her own thoughts. Finally Yurielle said, “Yes. Yes I think I can.”

Raistlin went to argue but she cut him off. “If you had asked me that weeks ago I would have said no. But now...” She took his face into her hands and forced him to look into her eyes. “Especially after how you've cared for me lately, after I have seen how deeply you can indeed love, I'm going to say yes. I do think so, Raistlin. _Eventually_... Yes.” Her voice was beginning to fade even more the longer she used it. “In time, I think you'd make a good father.”

“Eventually,” he huffed, his eyes wandering about the room. He did not believe her in the slightest. “A child is the last thing someone like me needs.”

“Perhaps... but maybe not,” Yurielle stated. Leaning down she kissed him again in order to force him to look at her. “We have time, Raistlin. Once we solve the other problems before us, there will be so much time for us to decide how we want to live our lives together. But right now, you are _definitely_ not ready to be a father.”

Curious he asked, “What would ever change between now and then that you think would make me worthy of such a trial?”

“You need to learn to love yourself first, Raistlin,” she said gently, her fingers trailing lovingly down his face once again. “Only then can you bring life into this world.”

He scoffed and stood up. Very gently he pushed her away from him so that he could pass her and make his way to the other room.

Yurielle silently watched him enter the washroom, the gold of his skin gleamed in the diffused light as he crossed the room. Raistlin turned in the doorway and gave her a meaningful look with those weird eyes of his. “One step at a time, my sweet Yurielle.” And with that he shut the door.

It was only much later that the archmage realized the true meaning to what she had said to him. Even if she hadn't meant it in that context, Yurielle had instinctively understood why he had failed with the Live Ones.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wouldn't that herb be just the best thing ever? xD  
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	45. Beneath the Great Library

 

“Look at this!” Yurielle exclaimed as the ancient book in her hand thudded to the desktop between them, her long slender finger pointing out what she had found.

Raistlin lowered his own book and sat forward in the chair within the crypts of the Great Library in Palanthas. After spending the morning looking through the last of the tomes that Dalamar had left behind, they decided to visit the one place where many such books on necromancy, curses, and death rites could be found.

Eyeing the page she had open, he examined the images of several hand-inked diagrams of various stones. The pictures were faded by the untold number of years that they had seen, but they were still clear enough to discern. Next to the drawings were several passages scratched in a language Raistlin did not recognize. In spite of this, he was able to ascertain what the drawings symbolized. “Phylacteries?”

His eyes went back to hers and he watched a grin spread across her face. “Yes! And look what it says here.” Her finger traced the passage. He did not look back at the page, for he knew he could not read it. Instead he focused on the twinkle in her eyes.

“I cannot read what it says, Yurielle,” he confessed. “I have never even seen that language before.”

Yurielle looked back at him. “Really?” She blinked. “Sorry. I sometimes forget myself. It's a form of Sylvan, but, see these words?” Her attention returned to the ancient book. “Their basic syllable structure stretches back to an obscure branch of the Irda. I've only seen this writing in a few other tomes back at Wayreth. However that book wasn't written in Sylvan but combined with ancient-”

“Yurielle!” Raistlin cut her off, knowing she was about to get completely sidetracked yet again. “What does it _say_?”

“Right!” She cleared her throat and blushed. “Sorry.”

He sighed but couldn't keep his lips from tugging up at the corners. She was acting the exact same way that she did when he had first found her down here all those months ago. Yurielle was absorbed in the subject that she found most fascinating and being here was bringing back many memories from that day in Raistlin's mind.

How nonchalant she had displayed herself, how uncaring of what anyone thought of her pursuits, how open her interactions with him had been. He recalled how meeting the most powerful archmage in all of Krynn hadn't seemed to phase her – much. His smile deepened at the memory; this woman had been a quirky little mystery that day, one that had turned his world on its head. Everything had found its beginning here, in this very room.

“Don't apologize,” he said patiently. “You are allowed to know more languages than me. Just _please,_ do stay on track, Yurielle,” he requested as he sat back in his chair. “What do the ancient Irda have to say about phylacteries?”

Her flush didn't leave her face and Raistlin could see how memories of that day were playing in her mind as well. She was indeed in her element here, and apparently having the time of her life being surrounded by such dark books and secrets. The very first thing she had done when they arrived was greet the tomes as old friends and hum her little tune as she searched the pitch-black aisles for what she sought.

Raistlin was fascinated by her uncanny knack at being able to draw herself to the right book. They had tried looking for information within the Tower but Raistlin quickly deduced that Fistandantilus was not naive enough to keep books that would undermine him right in his own lair. They would have to search elsewhere for that kind of information.

So here they were and, despite how serious their search was, Raistlin was finding that he was also enjoying himself. Not in the way that Yurielle was of course, for he wasn't about to go dancing down the aisles and sing to the shadows that haunted this hall. No, he was enjoying being able to watch her as she did this and once again he was struck by how weird and different her methods were.

A thought struck him then. His life would be so very different if he had gone to the post that day like he had planned instead of coming here first... His new found heart ached painfully at the thought of never meeting her.

“Well, we all know that the Irda were originally the Ogres we know today. So I guess it's more accurate to say that this is ancient Ogre. Anyway,” Yurielle pulled her chair closer to him causing it to give a little squeak against the stone floor, “Ogres, being Takhisis' chosen children and first born of the races, were heavy black magic users and enslaved humans to mine gems and minerals for them eons ago. This,” her finger again traced the thin and faded words along the edges of the brittle page. “This details how various types of stones each hold their own vibrational energy and thus are able to be used for specific purposes!”

She gently turned the book back to her, holding it more carefully than a fragile newborn. “Here listen to this! 'Obsidian is among one of the most delicate of the minerals used to house any...'” Her brow furrowed as she translated. “This word is strange but I think it's trying to basically say that obsidian - since it is technically glass - is one of the more rare substances to house power within as it is easy to break. But, if one manages such a thing, the glass structure and frequency of the stone itself...” Her eyes widened and darted up to met Raistlin's. “Raistlin, obsidian is a stone usually used as a protection piece!”

The archmage nodded. He knew that crystals of various types were often used by wizards as an arcane focus or as components in spell casting. Different types were more commonly used for different purposes as their crystalline structures allowed them to hold and amplify various magics better than others.

“But if it is corrupted by necromancy, obsidian acts as an anchor to _hold_ negativity and when it's used as a phylactery to house part of a soul...” Her eyes went back to the page and read the passage again quickly before continuing. “That contained soul can manifest into a negative entity like the Guardians within your Tower! Raistlin!” Her eyes once more darted back up to his. “That stone wasn't just a _piece_ of Fistandantilus, it also was able to give him a type of presence here because of it! That's why I could see him with my sister's help! He was physically anchored here to this plane!”

“So there could be other entities like that Guardian floating around with an essence of the archlich within it?” Raistlin asked, not liking the sound of it.

Yurielle paled slightly. “Who can say? But if Fistandantilus had somehow found a way to split his essence into several different phylacteries then....” She slowly shook her head. “I don't even know where to begin looking for them all!”

It was Raistlin who now rubbed his eyes in frustration. “What else does the book say? How many splits in ones essence is too many? How can a soul possibly endure such fracturing?!”

Yurielle reached out and gently touched his face. “I don't know. It doesn't say,” she said softly. “You look tired, Raistlin, we should take a break.”

Taking her hand in his, Raistlin pulled her from her chair and onto his lap. Yurielle sat carefully there, her legs dangling over the side. “Not what I had in mind, but this _is_ nice,” she smiled and kissed his chin.

Raistlin sighed heavily, unable to hide his frustrations. “I don't know how I lived this long without you, Yurielle,” he said softly, burying his face into her hair.

Yurielle swallowed the lump in her throat at his admission. “Well, there's no getting rid of me now, archmage. You're kind of stuck with me for better or worse.”

He gently squeezed her against himself but made no reply.

“What's wrong, Raistlin?” Yurielle asked softly; worry tinting her voice. “You're usually not so... well... gloomy. I mean you are, but not like this!” she teased lightly and drew away so that she could see his face. Her voice cracked ever so slightly today as she spoke but it was nearly completely recovered. She ran her hand down the side of his golden face as she studied him.

“What's wrong, my love?” she asked again. “Please don't shut me out anymore. I know all of this is new to the both of us. But I wish to grow together as we learn to live with one another. Tell me what troubles you. You no longer need to carry everything by yourself, my Darkness.”

He met her gaze. His hourglass orbs were solemn but radiated his admiration for her. She spoke so honestly and truly about everything that was on her mind and in her heart. It was so very different than how he was used to being. Everything about these last days with her was still so strange to the archmage, bearing his thoughts and feelings to another person was something that he had never done in his life. But somehow, he found such deep comfort in doing so with her.

“I...” His words failed him as he looked into her loving eyes. Still he felt unworthy of her, but Raistlin endeavored to do as she asked of him. The archmage took a deep breath and started again. “I love you, Yurielle, with no surname. My Star.” He nuzzled into her face with his, making her smile.

“So much has changed since you came into my life. I don't even feel like the same person I was before...” His brow creased in thought. “I fear losing you because of me, because of my magic, because of Fistandantilus and Takhisis.” His eyes snapped back to hers. “I've... I've been having visions...”

Yurielle placed her finger over his lips. “Visions often are not what we think, Raistlin. You know this. No matter what you saw, the true meaning could be far different than what you believe it to be...”

“I saw you dead,” he blurted out against her finger. “Dead and intertwined with Takhisis. In my own hand, your heart beat its last. Then, there is just darkness and nothing. Nothing but endless agony and loneliness. I was having these visions even before Takhisis visited you and showed you what I would achieve if I killed her...”

She opened her mouth to say something but he pressed on, needing her to know. “I'm endlessly tumbling within the void that I created after ascending. I was a God of Nothing! Even after meeting you, this vision still haunts me. Takhisis told you that I am MORE dangerous now with a heart. What if that means that somehow, I still kill her! What if Fistandantilus takes me over completely and we are unable to alter this? What if...”

Yurielle's lips over Raistlin's silenced him. She had never seen Raistlin like this, rambling his fears and uncertainties to her so fast that his words were running together in a jumble. Secretly, she wondered just how long he had battled with these thoughts and fears.

Kissing him deeply, earnestly, Yurielle finally drew away after several moments. “Do you want to know what I saw before Goldmoon healed me?” She didn't even pause to let him reply. “The gods of magic came to me and I relived my Test again. Only it wasn't the same as the first time I went through it. I can't explain it... but it felt like I was in a loop, Raistlin. It was the same yet it was so very different. Do you know why?”

He shook his head and Yurielle gently took hold of him. Placing her warm hands on either side of his face she said softly, “ _You_ were there, Raistlin. But not as you are right now... not as a mortal man. This time... this time I saw your essence all around me. Your eyes were looking back at me from the void beyond. You were there as a God yourself.” She kissed him again but his lips did not respond this time. “YOU... My Hourglass God, Master of all Time. It was you and it was the same version of you that Takhisis showed me.”

Raistlin sucked in a breath. She had said as much in her ramblings after the goddess had visited her.

“'Give him back what he has lost... save him this time. Save him from himself. Save him from the past, present and future that he is, was, and will be. Only you can do this.'” Yurielle recited the words from her perfect memory.

“Gilean commanded this of me. He called me the final spark and said this was the last chance to break the cycle. This is the only timeline now that matters, Raistlin. This is what they asked of me and I will not fail. I will not fail the magic and I will NOT fail _you_!”

Raistlin stared at her, his eyes growing wide. “What are you, Yurielle?” he whispered faintly.

A smile slowly spread across her face. “Why, Raistlin, do you not know by now? I'm just me.”

“Indeed...” He shook his head incredulously. “Just you. Just the wild magic returned to Krynn. Just the only one who could awaken my heart.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Just me.”

“That day in the Grove,” Raistlin lowered his voice and paused for a moment; he didn't like to even think about it, much less speak of it. “When I blacked out... Do you want to know what I saw then, Yurielle?”

“If it makes you sad then no,” she said. “I don't want to know.”

Raistlin gently wove a finger through a strand of her hair. “It was the first ray of hope within my visions, Yurielle.”

“That sounds nice. What was it then?”

“I was still tumbling in that nothingness, only to be suddenly in my childhood bedroom with Caramon. A candle was burning between us as he showed me shadow puppets.”

“Shadow puppets?” she asked, surprised.

“I've always suffered from nightmares,” he explained softly. “Caramon would calm me with silliness in the only way his simple mind could.”

Yurielle smiled gently at the image her mind conjured up of the two twin boys. “And then what?” she gently urged him on.

“Suddenly the candle was no longer there. Instead, it was replaced by a spark of light and magic.”

“I saw a spark in my Test!”

“Indeed.” He kissed her forehead.

“What does it mean?” she asked then.

“That we walk together, Yurielle... always,” he stated with conviction. “You are the star that lights my darkness. You are the symbol of hope on Krynn both for myself and for the magic we both cherish.” His eyes suddenly went dark then, remembering the one final part. “But... I still destroyed you, Yurielle. As a god, I found that spark. Sensed the ambient essence and it's willingness to help me and I crushed you...”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I know,” she whispered.

Raistlin went to lift her from his lap and tried to push her away but she stubbornly held onto him, her arms wrapping even tighter around him. “Yurielle...” He sounded so exhausted to her ears.

“NO, Raistlin!” she exclaimed as she clung to him. “Everything is connected. I am here because sometime, _somewhere_ , you as a god destroyed all existence. The last piece that you found was a part of the ambient weave. You made a choice then, a difficult one, but necessary. If you had not crushed that spark, it would not have entered the timelines. It would not have flowed here and I would not have been born. Don't you see?”

Raistlin did, but he still could not bear the thought of it.

Gently Yurielle once again lay her hands on either side of his face and gazed deeply into his troubled eyes. “Raistlin Majere,” she spoke firmly. “You must see that even at your darkest, even so far gone that you destroyed EVERYTHING, even consumed by Fistandantilus, you still foresaw hope for yourself. You must trust that - even as a destructive god - you must have yet seen a possible way to redeem yourself. Yes, this timeline is changed and unknown. But I'm here within it, my love.” She drew his head to her lips and kissed him between the eyes.

“We will free you of Fistandantilus. Your soul will be your own and no matter what happens, you will not become that entity, that God of Nothing. I swear this to you, Raistlin, whatever purpose I live for, I know that I must bring the wild magic to _you_ to achieve this goal. It is why I exist. To light the way for you...” She pressed her forehead against his and held his gaze.

“You, the God that you became in that other timeline, willed this to be so. I exist because you had the courage to destroy that final part of the wild magic and bring about other possibilities. I choose to stand with you this time and I have come to love you. I will admit that I do not know what will happen now. There may be a greater threat on the horizon for us, but... let it come. We will bring balance by way of light through the darkness...”

Raistlin could scarcely breathe and he felt the prickling of tears in his eyes. Awe and reverence filled him at her words, but there was also fear and terror. After many long moments he finally said, “Come what may then, Yurielle. Until the end of all time, we will face whatever comes... and know that I will always love you.”

Yurielle cried the tears they both felt and Raistlin kissed them away, cherishing their sweet saltiness. His lips soon found hers and so very softly he soothed away their combined sadness and worry. Yurielle kissed him in return, filling the action with her feelings for him. She could also sense his own ache be quieted by her nearness. When they finally drew apart, they were both breathless and smiling at one another.

Suddenly Yurielle stood and pulled the archmage up with her. Kissing him again she ran her tongue along his lips until he allowed her entry. He groaned into her mouth and pulled her closer to himself, pressing her body against his.

It had been well over a week since they had made love. Yurielle's bruises were deep and were painful yet even after the clerics had healed her. Still, many days later, they were visible. But it did little to ease the fire that burned inside of her for Raistlin. Every day and night she dreamed about his mouth, his hands, and what they had done to her. She longed to feel his touch again, to feel him inside of her, to feel the hum of his magical skin against her own. To feel the heat, the softness as well as the hardness of him...

A few nights ago she had blessed him with a fraction of what she wanted to do to him. The bruises still ached, but the pain was growing less with every passing day. Even if they were pressed on wrong, she would endure it because it was nowhere near as painful as the ache of denying herself of Raistlin Majere. With the thoughts of what she wanted to experience again with this dark and clever archmage, Yurielle couldn't help but moan against his lips as she pulled him towards the desk.

Sensing that she was up to something, Raistlin pulled away from her fiery kiss. They were both flushed and out of breath, their eyes bright with excitement. He arched an eyebrow at her. “Yurielle... What are you doing?”

She gave him a mischievous smirk and shrugged playfully as her long fingers ran over his chest. “Don't act like you're not at least a bit tempted...”

“Tempted?”

Leaning closer she ran her lips over his jaw to his ear. “This desk is quite large, Raistlin...” She whispered and gave a nip on his earlobe before she stepped back and sat on the edge of the dark gleaming surface. “And no one is crazy enough to come down here but us. Those stuck up Aesthetics will never know what we might do together in the shadows...”

His eyes widened to the size of saucers even as his face flushed, the golden skin taking on a darker hue at her salacious suggestion. Quickly he closed the gap between them to stand face to face with her, trapping her against the desk.

The closeness caused Yurielle to scoot back father onto its surface and Raistlin took the opportunity to lean down and place each of his hands on either side of her against the cold polished wood, but he made no move to touch her with those hands. “And you call me evil...” he murmured lowly against her neck where he buried his face against her skin. “I would never have guessed you'd ever have such depraved thoughts in that pretty head of yours, Yurielle.”

A breathy giggle escaped her lips as he continued to very lightly run the tip of his nose along her neck, making her vibrate with anticipation. Still, however, he did not touch her any more than that. “If you only knew, archmage,” she purred. Reaching up to him, Yurielle went to pull Raistlin down with her but he deftly stepped away, his own mischievous smirk on his lips.

“Tsk tsk.” He lightly shook a lean finger at her as she collapsed back onto the desk with a gasp. “You are still healing, my dear. And I very much doubt that a quick tryst in a cursed crypt will do you any good in regaining your strength. Besides, you know the incorporeal things that exist down here as well as I do.”

Yurielle's eyes darted around them to the writhing shadows that had gathered on the outer rim of the light in which they sat. “I don't think they'd mind...” she pouted and sat back up, as she did she scooted even farther back on the desk, her eyes still glinting naughtily at him.

Raistlin chuckled low in his throat. “You are going to get me into no end of trouble...” He was about to give in and crawl across the desk to her when a sudden pounding on the door halted him.

Yurielle squeaked in surprise and quickly hurried off the desk to join Raistlin's side just as the far door of the chambers began to open. A bright streak of light shot through the gloom as the doors opened wide and several figures entered the room.

“Master Astinus,” Raistlin bowed as the Chronicler came towards them, flanked by one Aesthetic holding an orb of light on either side.

“Raistlin Majere. Yurielle.” The ancient man inclined his head slightly to each.

Yurielle, unable to hide her blush, only nodded in greeting.

“I do hope I am not interrupting anything,” the Chronicler said dryly.

Yurielle went red all the way up to the tips of her ears but Raistlin coolly stated, “Not at all, Learned One. We are merely trying to solve the unsolvable.”

Astinus gazed at them, his eyes flat and unamused, but he said nothing to indicate that he knew anything of what they may have been doing. “A great many shifts are taking place right now, archmage. Time around you is in great flux, as is the magic. If you both would be so kind as to join me in my study.” His eyes then fell on Yurielle. “We have much to discuss. And perhaps I may be of some assistance to answer to your unsolvable problem.” Without waiting for a response of any kind, Astinus turned sharply and began to exit the dark chamber. The two Aesthetics hurried to keep up.

Raistlin sneaked a glance down at Yurielle and couldn't help but smirk at her flustered appearance.

The woman's eyes met his. Her embarrassment evaporated to be replaced by mischief once more. “Save it for later then?”

Raistlin shook his head and muttered, “Insatiable,” as he gently placed his hand on the small of her back and began to lead her out of the crypts.

Yurielle merely giggled, the shadows around the room disappearing back into the darkest corners of the hall, unable to hold space with such a lighthearted sound.

 

 

 


	46. Fate Touched

Minutes later the two mages found themselves within the personal study of Astinus. It was an honor that very, very few people could claim throughout history, yet both Raistlin and Yurielle had already been in this room at one point or another during their lives.

Yurielle had been here briefly when she had first come to the Great Library and asked to enter the dark crypts below. The Chronicler had commanded his followers to bring the woman to him but the ancient man had only glanced at her before dismissing her and allowing her entry. No words had been exchanged between them and the encounter had always confused Yurielle when she thought about it later.

Raistlin had met with Astinus years ago when he had first teleported to Palanthas after leaving his twin and companions to die on the Blood Sea. The young man had been near death, having used all of his power and will to command the dragon orb to take him here. He had spent many days within these halls recovering from the drain on his body. During this time, he did research of his own amongst the books. After that, Raistlin had taken up the black robes, and the rest - as they say - is history.

But now they both stood within this room once more. Raistlin's golden eyes roamed the space and came to rest upon a delicate orb that sat upon the Ancient Ones' desk. An unpleasant tingling entered his mind as he gazed at the object. He had the feeling that he was familiar with it, how it worked, and how to use it, yet he had never seen it before. His eyes then went to Astinus. The Ancient One was regarding him quietly, but Raistlin detected a look of knowing in his eyes.

Yurielle also saw the object and her eyes went wide as she stared at it. “Fistandantilus made that!” she said in surprise.

Both men turned to her.

“Indeed he did, child,” Astinus said in his monotone voice. “How did you know?”

“I can see his filthy essence all around it.” She glared at it so hard that Raistlin was surprised the orb didn't break under her ire.

Yurielle ignored the looks they were giving her; her eyes were fixated on the magical artifact with such intensity they started to water. As she watched it, minute pinpoints of gold slowly floated around it, dancing lazily with the dark blackness that was Fistandantilus. The little gold motes were tiny, almost invisible, but she was sure that it was the same as Raistlin's essence. Yurielle may have not even seen them if she were not staring so hard at it.

She took a startled step closer, her hands over the object as if she were to pick it up. Instead her eyes darted to Raistlin. “But I see you in there as well...” Slowly she shook her head. “I... I don't understand...”

“You are not the only one then,” Astinus said. “Sit and we shall talk.”

The two mages obeyed and sat down in the chairs that Astinus offered to them, positioned on the other side of his desk so that they faced him. The magical object stood between them, looking benign and innocent in the room's late afternoon glow of the sun.

The Ancient Chronicler regarded them for several heartbeats before he spoke once more. “This indeed is a strange occurrence, is it not? I trust that you both realize by now the gravity of what is transpiring all around us. The magic is in flux,” his eyes landed on Yurielle, “but you, it seems, have become a stabilizing force upon Krynn. The ambient magic that has not been seen in mortals since before the Age of Dreams flows through you.”

Yurielle could only nod.

“You are not the only being in existence to wield the ambient,” Astinus began and sat back in his chair. “Many magical creatures, dragons and unicorns among them, use the ambient magic in their own spell-casting. While mortals,” his eyes went to Raistlin now, “rely heavily on the gods for their power. Thus was it decided eons ago by the gods as a way to prevent their children from destroying both themselves and the world.”

The dark gray eyes of Astinus took them both into their depths. “But this shift foretells a great change to come. Krynn needs mortals to hold her essence now and mortals need to become less reliant on the gods for their power.

“They have seen what would happen,” he continued before either mage could question him. “They have seen what the power of a mortal could do if allowed to fully embrace untold arcane might and grow beyond its bounds. All of the gods, as well as myself, hold the memory of an event regarding one such mortal, that mortal being you, Raistlin Majere, as you ascended and destroyed the pantheon. On that timeline you upset the delicate balance of the universe and devoured everything in your insatiable hunger to fill the emptiness within you, an emptiness that was the result of your merging with the being known as Fistandantilus.”

Astinus' eyes seemed to dig deep into Raistlin's soul. The archmage could only stare back at him, his body numb as he absorbed this information.

The Chronicler continued without taking so much as a pause to breathe. “This merge, this... takeover - one that seems to have started one the day of your Test - eventually ate away at your humanity. In time it devoured everything that you once were as well as what you were once able to feel. There was nothing left inside of you but a hunger and a need to fill the emptiness. As the gods fell before you, and you took their power, this void only grew until you warped that timeline into the black hole it ultimately became. But,” he said carefully, “it would seem that timeline will not come to pass now.”

His eyes once more went back to Yurielle. “You, wild magic Sorcerer, explain to me how you see the weave of magic, for I have never, not in all my years as a Chronicler of history, witnessed such an ability.”

Yurielle had to clear her throat a few times before she finally managed to speak. “It is hard to put into words,” she began softly. “But when I concentrate, I can view the weave of a spell.” She then indicated the large glimmering orb that sat upon the chroniclers' desk in front of her. It was a beautiful piece, the opalescent orb gleamed softly. Within it there were swirls of mist-like smoke trapped inside the glass. The orb sat nestled in a silver holder not dissimilar to the shape of an hourglass. But unlike an hourglass, the stand held only the one orb but it could still be turned on its head to activate its power.

“If I am familiar with the caster of a spell, or if I have seen the essence of them, I can recognize their essence within spells they've cast and within items they have created. I see Fistandantilus' blackness within this just as I sense it around Raistlin and within the Tower of High Sorcery here in Palanthas.”

“You also see Raistlin's essence here?” the eternal man asked, indicating the orb.

She nodded hesitantly. “I did when we first arrived but now I don't seem to. I see Raistlin's essence as a golden light. There were a few pinpoints of it at first but now...” Her brow furrowed as if willing the familiar lights to appear. Her frown disappeared when one tiny light appeared then flickered out. “There is one again, but it's very faint.”

Her eyes went to her lover before going back to Astinus. “How can Raistlin's essence be there if Fistandantilus created this? How old is this object?”

“Old,” Astinus rumbled, and it seemed to vibrate with the years of his own existence. “He created this before the Cataclysm fell upon the world. He brought it to me so that I may peer into other places upon Krynn and see what is happening beyond my sight. Daily do I still use it, for it has become invaluable to me as I observe history as it happens. With it I have seen much. But,” he sighed, the first outward sign of humanity he displayed to them, “it would seem that there is much that I have missed.”

“Such as?” Yurielle couldn't help but ask.

“You, for one.” Those dark gray eyes fell heavily on her. “I never saw your birth. Never saw the things that have happened directly to you. I have only witnessed the change that your existence has shaped in the lives of others around you. The first time I felt your presence was here in the Library when you wanted to gain entry to the lower levels. I was unnerved by you and the strangeness of your energy. But my god whispered to me to allow you access and so I did.”

His attention returned to Raistlin. “I first realized what change her odd presence would start in the history of the world when you first met her, Master of the Past and Present. You could not have imagined the feeling I experienced as all timelines shifted in those first heartbeats. I nearly fainted at the dizziness brought on by it. For days this went on, as you yourself fought with the reality of her. But when you fully decided to get to know her the more this timeline took shape and the more we all began to remember the one that _would_ have been.”

“You still told me,” Raistlin stated, finally stirring in his seat. “You came to me, that first day after I met her.” His hourglass eyes fell on Yurielle. “You told me the timeline had shifted. Why?” He looked again at Astinus. “Why tell me? I thought you keepers of history were impartial to what was happening around you and took steps in order to let things flow as they are meant to; unimpeded by any interference.”

Astinus nodded. “Yes, I told you,” he admitted. “Yes, this perhaps altered some part of history and I fear that this meeting as well goes against my own edicts and for that I may yet pay a great price from my god. But,” his eyes took them both in once more, “trust me when I say that the alternative... Well, judging by the looks you both have in your eyes you already have seen what may have been. You know now what you are capable of, Raistlin Majere, are you not?”

Raistlin nodded gravely.

“But you wish to no longer walk that path? You no longer wish to defeat Takhisis and ascend to godhood?”

“No,” the archmage replied firmly. “I do not wish this. I was led to believe this was a desire of mine, but I know now it belongs to Fistandantilus. It has always been _his_ desire...”

“Then what do _you_ desire, Raistlin Majere?” the Chronicler asked the archmage.

Raistlin's eyes never wavered from the other man's. His voice was firm and steady when he replied, “To be free and able to live my own life as _I_ choose.”

Astinus nodded, apparently satisfied with this answer. He turned his attention to Yurielle. “And you? What is it you wish, Yurielle? What are the wishes of one who should not exist?”

Yurielle blinked at the Chronicler, she had not expected him to ask her this as well. “I should not exist,” she agreed quietly after a moment's hesitation. “This is true.” She felt Raistlin stiffen and take a small breath as if he would say something. Gently she laid a hand over his on the armrest of his chair without taking her eyes off Astinus. “But I am here for him and wish only to be by his side. No matter what happens, no matter what path he walks.” She turned to meet the archmage's eyes and he felt as though he were being cradled in their midnight depths.

“I am to balance the magic on Krynn,” she said. She blinked and released Raistlin from her gaze in order to turn back to Astinus. “And part of that balance is for him. I theorize that what he did as that destructive God made the magic within _this_ timeline unbalanced. But it also allowed for me to be born; allowed for some way to avoid what would happen if Fistandantilus claims him.”

The Chronicler's eyes left their faces to briefly snap to her hand still resting on top of Raistlin's before returning to look at them. He nodded. “Your task is not an easy one, Yurielle. The entity within Raistlin Majere is not easily dealt with. As long as they are connected, there is still great danger on this timeline.”

“You once knew Fistandantilus,” Raistlin said. “How is it that he has become so intertwined with me? How was it possible that I have held him at bay and prevented him from fully possessing my body?”

The Chronicler thought a moment, his eyes going far off. Finally they refocused and locked onto the archmage's. “Yes, I knew the man that was Fistandantilus. I knew him for hundreds of years as he grew in power. I saw and recorded as he took the life of many an apprentice under his tutelage. I watched as he led armies against one another during the Dwarfgate War and I saw the explosion that destroyed his body once and for all.”

“What happened?” Yurielle asked before she could think. “What caused the explosion?”

“Many different factors played into the surge of magic that got out of his control within the fortress of Zhaman,” the Chronicler explained. “He was attempting to open the portal to the Abyss on his quest to do the very same thing he was whispering in Raistlin's ear to do. Things happened...” He waved a hand dismissively. “But the result is the same. The explosion killed thousands and Fistandantilus was among the casualties.”

“But yet his essence survived,” Raistlin stated. “He made a place for himself among the ethereal planes of existences and from there he came to me during my Test of High Sorcery.”

Astinus nodded. “He did indeed. The same as he had done to countless others over the years in order to siphon their life forces to keep himself in existence.”

“What made my Test so different?” Raistlin asked. “Why was I able to thwart him?” He held up a golden hand. “How did I create this shield to protect myself?”

Astinus shook his head. “Those are answers only you can solve, Raistlin Majere. I merely observe things as they happen and I'm afraid the doings of wizards are beyond my understanding. However,” he continued before Raistlin could speak again, “I may have some insight that may help to set you both on the right course to free you.”

Both mages were listening, their interest piqued. Yurielle leaned forward in her chair, eager to hear what he had to share.

“What do you know of me?” Astinus asked.

Yurielle's brow furrowed. “You are Astinus, The Chronicler of History.”

Astinus nodded. “And?”

“You've been here for countless years doing so. You seem to be immortal,” she continued, uncertain.

“And?” One thick gray eyebrow rose as he prodded her on.

Yurielle cleared her throat. “Some say that you are Gilean... Or an aspect of him.”

“How can this be though?” Astinus asked, the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Yurielle may have missed it, but Raistlin's keen observations did not.

Yurielle thought for a moment before shrugging. “I cannot presume to understand the whim of the gods.”

“Ah, but yet here you are,” Astinus said calmly. “You are the paradox that should not be. Arcane and ambient magic woven into one body and charged with balancing. Simply by existing you have changed the flow of this reality. It is my understanding that the gods came to you in your Test and informed you as much. You live by _their_ whim.”

The woman blushed, abashed and chastised by his words. “I suppose you are correct in that. But I still have no understanding of what exactly I am to do.”

“You are simply to BE, Yurielle. You must simply balance in whatever way you can,” he explained. “Your existence is enough.”

Yurielle sat back in her chair pondering this as Raistlin's eyes once again came to rest on her.

“What know you of the River of Souls?” the Ancient One's voice interrupted both of their musings and they both gave him looks of perplexity.

“It is the path in which all spirits leave the Material Plane,” Raistlin answered, startled by the strange question. “Through the Gate of Souls the River flows to the Outer Planes where the gods dwell.”

“Then where to? What happens to those souls once they reach the gods?” Astinus asked.

“They enter the Ethereal Sea and thus continue the cycle of life and death,” Yurielle, equally startled, continued Raistlin's explanation. “And I theorize that the cycle is very similar to the ambient weave of magic.”

Astinus nodded. “Indeed, they are similar, for both exist as means for life and death to continue. But that still does not answer my question. What happens to one's soul once they depart and join the River and meet the gods?”

Neither mage replied, for they had no answer.

“It is a cycle, just as you said,” Astinus confirmed Yurielle's statement. “A soul may wander within the ethereal sea for all eternity. Or it may again reemerge to live another life. The River is exactly like what it sounds like, a place where all living souls flow together and merge, bringing their knowledge and experience back to the gods.” The Ancient One sat back in his chair and folded his hands in front of him as he spoke.

“However, once in a great many eons, there are souls that begin to crystallize into their own unique individual forms. No longer merging with others, these beings enter the cycle over and over, repeatedly growing and retaining their own knowledge. Slowly these souls become powerful beings in their own right. Such was how the High God brought forth the most ancient and developed souls from the Ethereal Sea to create the gods in the first place. Such has my own soul grown in order to allow me to exist as you see before you.” His eyes flicked to Raistlin suddenly.

“And such is your soul, Raistlin Majere or - I should say - Fistandantilus.”

If it was even possible, Raistlin's pallor went deathly white.

Yurielle eyed him with alarm and squeezed his hand under hers.

“I have revealed more than I should have,” Astinus admitted, his eyes again losing their focus. “But it cannot be helped. You must understand, Raistlin Majere, that you are connected to the archlich Fistandantilus in more ways than you can possibly begin to imagine.”

“Then explain to us!” Yurielle pleaded. “Help us understand! If what you are implying... then Raistlin is...”

“Yes, Yurielle,” Astinus nodded gravely. “Raistlin Majere and Fistandantilus are both technically the same entity. Or at least, they _once_ were. However, due to the nature of his craft, Fistandantilus has fractured himself throughout the course of his existence, sealing pieces of his soul away to never return back into the River of Souls upon his ultimate death. He has done something that no other lich in history has ever done: Through his magic, he kept the main portion of his soul on a different plane and from there he continued to siphon life from victims until a suitable host could be found to house him again.” He sat forward; his eyes were intense as they locked with Raistlin's.

“That host was you, Raistlin Majere, for you are the part of him that _did_ make it to the River of Souls and be reborn as his next reincarnation when his body died at Zhaman. His soul is so fractured that he could not stop a piece of it from returning to the life and death cycle that awaits us all.” The silence in the room was deafening as Astinus sat back in his chair and paused to regain his thoughts.

“Fistandantilus has waited centuries for you to reemerge, Raistlin Majere, the part of his own soul to escape his grasp. However,” another smirk shone again at the corner of his mouth and this time Yurielle was the one to catch it, “he could not have foreseen how strong your own will and identity would be. You _yourself_ are something that has never been seen before. A fractured piece of a crystallized soul... I wouldn't doubt that even the gods themselves don't know what to make of you. This is probably why so many have taken such an interest in you throughout your life. You truly are touched by destiny... You truly are a Fate Touched being, and this is no small thing.”

Astinus then returned his attention to the item on his desk. “The Sphere of Time, also known as The Globe of Present Time Passing, was created by Fistandantilus centuries ago when he first began researching the time spell that he is known for. I suspect that you see Raistlin's essence there because it is truly what Fistandantilus' essence once was before his corruption into necromancy and before his soul became split and fractured. It's a pity to know that, even as early as the creation of this,” his hand waved over the object, “he was so lost.”

Raistlin rubbed at his forehead and found that it was slick with a sheen of sweat. He was not able to fully comprehend what Astinus was saying, but he had an idea of what he was implying. His mind whirled in a thousand different directions. And none of them were pleasant.

He _was_ Fistandantilus. Therefore, in his mind, there was no way to stop what was happening to him.

Yurielle was watching his face worriedly. “Raistlin?” she squeezed his hand again.

Finally his eyes focused on her face and he gently squeezed her hand back. “I'm... alright.” Those cursed eyes then returned to Astinus who also was regarding the archmage. “If we are connected in the way that you imply, Chronicler, then how can I be free of him? Is such a thing even possible?”

The Ancient One shrugged, the act seemed odd coming from one so stern and serious. “Again, the realm of magic is not something that I understand. I record history as it happens, nothing more. If you are indeed your own soul with your own purpose and identity, then I would guess that it is a possibility. But how you can go about fully releasing his grasp on you, especially after the events in your Test...” Again he shrugged. “Perhaps if you uncover what transpired there, on that fateful day, you will better understand how the two of you became so locked.”

“So Raistlin's Test is the key?” Yurielle asked.

Astinus was still watching Raistlin, whose face had grown alarmingly pale again. “I suspect that you do not remember the event of your Test, just as you do not remember many other events that I have recorded involving you.”

“You imply that I once knew what happened...” Raistlin said carefully, his gaze turning inward, trying desperately to dredge up the memory.

The Chronicler nodded. “You came to understand what had happened after you arrived on my doorstep five years ago, near death but refusing to die.”

Raistlin's awareness snapped into focus and he met the Chronicler’s gaze. “Tell me! Show me what I have lost!”

“I cannot do this,” Astinus said gravely. “This is something you must solve if you are to be free, Raistlin Majere. I only offer this insight to you at this time because you are similar to myself in that our souls are not as most mortals are.”

Yurielle's attention was now on the Chronicler, her mouth hung slightly ajar.

Astinus stood suddenly, cutting off any further questions. “I have been away from my writing for long enough. I must return to my duties. Events are happening all around us at all times and I must write what has transpired here before I am able to get to those.”

Yurielle stood as well, it took Raistlin a moment to compose himself and rise to stand next to her. Taking the Staff of Magius in his hand, he regarded the Chronicler with eyes that held more questions but he respected the others need to continue his work. “Thank you for your time, Ancient One.”

Yurielle opened her mouth to say something but a quick glare from Raistlin caused her to shut it. The look in his eyes and his sudden hand on her elbow told her not to continue with her questions. They would get no more information from Astinus today. She bowed instead. “I thank you as well, Astinus.”

With a final bow from the archmage, the two magic-users exited the Ancient Ones chamber. They found that night had begun to fall as they made their way out of the Great Library. The sky outside was awash with streaks of red and orange; bathing the underside of the clouds in vibrant colors. Yurielle halted and turned to Raistlin who had paused at the top of the steps, his eyes were looking up at the sky, but his gaze was turned inward.

“Raistlin,” Yurielle said softly as she reached up and gently lay a hand along his face. “Are you alright?”

He started slightly and looked down at her as if he had forgotten about her next to him. Blinking he sighed heavily and took her hand in his. Pressing his lips to her palm he nodded. “I am, Yurielle. But...” He shook his head as if it would help to clear it. “It's a lot to process.”

“I know what's it's like to be overwhelmed,” she smiled knowingly at him. “But this is something new entirely. It's been a long day, Raistlin. Let's go home and get some rest. Tomorrow, we will make a plan of how we best will use this new information.”

The archmage leaned down and kissed her forehead before saying in his soft voice, “Yes, Yurielle, let's go home.” The words spread warmth throughout Raistlin's chest as he spoke them, for he knew that he was not alone in this turmoil.

Never again would he be alone.

She existed here - now - with him.

Weaving his fingers through hers, together they descended the steps and made their way back to the Tower. Deciding to take the long way home, they enjoyed an evening stroll through the city. As they did, Raistlin watched Yurielle as she window shopped and fancied himself as any other man.

Now, more than ever, Raistlin could not tear his cursed eyes away from the woman he had grown to cherish as the street lamps around them were lit, illuminating the lazy snowflakes that had begun to drift down around them. His breath caught at the sight, for it seemed to him that countless stars danced around her as she lifted her dark hood over her hair. Yurielle turned to him and flashed him one of her dazzling smiles before something in yet another window caught her eye and she darted off to investigate.

Raistlin sighed quietly to himself as he followed her, reflecting as he walked on how, not so long ago, he would have been annoyed by this delay. A smile touched his lips at hearing her giggle with delight at some bauble that she was viewing; her face pressed against the shops window like a kender during Yuletide.

Yes, once he would have been highly annoyed by such a ridiculous delay.

But not now, not with her.

Astinus was right about one thing he realized suddenly as he came to her side, her existence - at least for him - _was_ enough. Gently he took her by the hand and kissed her knuckles before leading her away from the window that displayed an array of books, paper, and various writing and art supplies. In silence Raistlin listened to her fawn over the supplies she did not own and what she wished to someday acquire as his thoughts inevitably turned inward and dark.

What Astinus had shared with them today shook the archmage to his core. This new knowledge that his soul was merely a fractured part of Fistandantilus was something that Raistlin had never expected; something he had never even considered. A chill ran up his spine that had nothing to do with the dropping temperature around them. If he was indeed a separated part of Fistandantilus' soul, how then could he ever truly be free?

As they turned down the final street leading to the Tower, Raistlin again glanced down at Yurielle who walked beside him, her arm woven through his, and felt his heart clench. How could he be free of this evil and still exist alongside one such as her if he was merely the same as what they sought to destroy.

As they neared the Grove, in his mind's eye, Raistlin could see footprints in the snow ahead of them, leading him into the darkness. He knew that they were Fistandantilus's footprints and, to his horror, Raistlin understood that he was simply following where the lich was directing him. _'There is no escaping this,'_ the thought stirred in his mind. _'After all, how can one escape themselves?'_

It was then that Yurielle began to hum as they walked beneath the twisted branches of the Shoikan Grove. The wind stirred as if called by her song and blew away the tracks that only Raistlin could see.

For a heartbeat, caught in the magic of her song, the shadows around them lifted and Raistlin followed Yurielle through the darkness. In that small moment, they were just as any ordinary man and woman in love, returning home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be honest, the past couple weeks have been pretty hard for me personally. As a result I have not had much ambition/will/inspiration to really work on the story, especially when it comes to writing new content. I've even found myself trying to distance myself from it because I haven't been in the right frame of mind to do it justice.  
> During this time, I've found myself taking a step back and looking at a lot of things. This story especially, since it has pretty much become my obsession and taken over my life!  
> I may be just opening up a can of worms with asking but I find that I need to so... Here I go.  
> I really just wanted to check in and see how everyone is feeling in regards to where things are in the story. Are you still enjoying it? Am I going to slow? Are there any parts or things about it that bug you? Any suggestions or input that you'd like to share? Where would you like to see the story go or are you satisfied with just sitting back and seeing where I take you?  
> I guess what I'm really trying to ask for is some feedback. For good or ill, lay it on. Constructive criticism is always welcome as well. I'm generally an oblivious person and don't know if I'm doing something wrong without someone pointing it out to me. I can't change and grow if I don't know that I've gotten off track. But also, please don't feel obligated that you need to comment either. Sometimes no news is good news and I totally get that as well!  
> I know everyone says 'write for yourself' and believe me, I am and that will never change. It's just that this story has gotten far, FAR longer than I ever anticipated and I hate to think that people are going to start losing interest because I go off on little tangents here and there.  
> Anyway, sorry for the soap box. You all are honestly the best and I thank you for sticking with me. We've only hit the tip of what I want to explore with Raistlin and Yurielle as well as the characters around them! I have a lot planned and I'm excited to get there with you! I just hope that you are enjoying journey with me :)  
> P.S. If you do have something to share but are not comfortable putting your suggestions or thoughts in the comments, feel free to shoot me an email instead: silver_glass01 at hot mail dot com (written this way so that bots can't spam me – I hope- lol. But obviously change it to a real email address with the @ and . and whatnots)


	47. Return Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW chapter! Read in front of others at your own risk!

Yurielle followed the archmage as they ascended the steps within the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas. Her eyes were trained on his back as he wordlessly climbed ahead of her, the only audible sound was the even thump of his staff on the stairs and the soft rustling of their robes brushing against the stone.

But inside of Yurielle her heart was pounding and - to her - the sound of it was deafening.

What they had learned from Astinus had been unexpected to say the least. The revelation that Raistlin and Fistandantilus were parts of the same soul existing at the same time was not entirely surprising to Yurielle, for it actually made a crazy kind of sense to her. Looking it the situation with this new knowledge she could see several explanations for so many of their questions.

However, there was one piece that Yurielle could not wrap her mind around. Astinus had brought up Raistlin's Test of High Sorcery where Fistandantilus had latched onto him, allowing the two separate souls to become entangled with one another. She couldn't help but question, would they have remained separate from each other if this had not happened?

But, Yurielle shook her head as she thought, she couldn't ask that question because the reality of it was that it _had_ happened; Raistlin had taken his Test and had fallen prey to the lich. So then, if they were indeed parts of the same soul, then how could they separate them now that they had begun to merge again? This process has been going on for ten years and Raistlin himself had divulged to her that there were sections of his memory that were blank, his Test being one such memory.

She swallowed hard, her heart clenching in her chest. Was this memory loss the result of the merging or was Fistandantilus suppressing them to keep Raistlin from learning the truth? Yurielle prayed that his memory loss was the result of the lich’s meddling with his mind. Astinus had told them Raistlin had once known what had happened in his Test, so if it was hidden from him once, then logically he should be able to uncover the memory once again. Hopefully.

Yurielle wondered what had exactly happened to link the two during his Test. From what she knew so far, more than likely the lich had come to Raistlin with the objective to drain his life essence in the same way that he had other novices. But obviously, Raistlin had resisted.

He was still alive and had survived the encounter when many other young mages had not, which told Yurielle that something different had taken place. Maybe a deal being struck by Fistandantilus in an effort to bring back the wayward part of his soul; to taint and regain control of both Raistlin's body and spirit?

She also theorized that since they were the same being split into two souls, there would have been some kind of recognition between them. Had Raistlin sensed the danger? The danger not only of being drained by the lich but did Raistlin's soul recognize Fistandantilus as another aspect of himself?

Was that why he had resisted in such a strange way? Was that where his golden shield had come from?

The wheels in Yurielle's head turned as she pondered. The archmage's subconscious mind had shielded himself from the unwanted takeover. Deep inside of him, Raistlin's own soul _must_ have recognized the danger that it was in and with the innate knowledge he possessed due to sharing an existence with the archlich, it was no wonder he was able to create his magical shield without knowing how. The well of magical knowledge hidden within Raistlin's soul-memory must be vast indeed.

No wonder he was so powerful!

Yurielle eyed her lovers back as he continued to silently climb the steps and wondered to herself, what other knowledge lay buried? What other magical powers could Raistlin summon? He was powerful, more powerful than any other mage Yurielle had ever seen.

A shudder ran down her spine.

If Raistlin was this powerful with only a fraction of the experience and knowledge of the archlich, then Fistandantilus' power must be terrifying indeed. Yurielle didn't even want to think about it. She instead focused her thoughts on how to break the tether between the two entities.

In her mind, Raistlin was his own being with his own soul despite the fact it had come from Fistandantilus. He was meant to be the next physical body of Fistandantilus, but the archlich had not foreseen how much individual will Raistlin's soul possessed and therefore could not overtake his body. At least, not without first whittling away at all of Raistlin's resistance.

Unable to take control of the young novice, Fistandantilus instead sat in the background of Raistlin's mind and slowly began to taint him from within. Fistandantilus had begun to curve the personality and thoughts of Raistlin; and had done so for several years now. Only Yurielle entering his life had opened Raistlin's eyes to what was actually happening inside of him. Raistlin now knew just how far his thoughts and ambitions had been directed by the subtle influences of the lich.

Yurielle wondered how much of his life Raistlin had lost due to Fistandantilus' taint. What decisions, what life choices, what paths would Raistlin Majere have walked if he had not encountered the lich?

None of that mattered - not really - and Yurielle knew this. It was pointless to ponder the what if questions. Raistlin wanted to be freed of this connection to the lich and that is what mattered now. He wanted to live his own life as he chose, something he had not been able to do for much of his adult life. But, because the process had been going on for quite some time, Yurielle was afraid there would be no simple answers to this riddle. Instead she prayed to every god on Krynn's pantheon that it was not too late to stop - and reverse - this process.

Yurielle also couldn't help but wonder what was going on inside of Raistlin's mind in these moments since learning this terrible truth of his soul. He had been silent since they had left the Great Library; speaking only when spoken to. His gaze was inward; those golden eyes seemed to be cold mirrors, guarding his thoughts and letting nothing see inside of his mind. Quiet and aloof more than his usual demeanor, Raistlin seemed almost in a state of shock as he absorbed the information that Astinus had shared with them.

Her heart sank. Would the archmage share his thoughts with her? Yurielle knew that Raistlin wasn't one to divulge his fears or worries. Well, except for today within the Library. It was the first time since knowing him that Raistlin had let her behind his usually calm exterior and allowed her a small glimpse of the turmoil that rolled inside of him. She had seen then that her beloved Hourglass Mage was a man carrying a weight that no one else could understand, and it was eating away at him. He thought he was alone in this!

Yurielle vowed again to herself that she would not fail Raistlin. She would not leave his side – he would NOT be alone in this! She could feel it in her bones: this was why she existed! Yurielle recalled those terrible hourglass eyes within the void, the ones that had stared back at her during her Test. They were what the man she loved would become... IF this merger would complete itself in this timeline.

They had pleaded with her to not let it happen.

No matter the cost...

For a brief moment Yurielle felt as if she was being squeezed again, just like in her Test. As the weight closed in around her, there was a tiny fluttering inside of her heart where that little golden light had entered her. Somewhere in the very back of Yurielle's mind, she again heard the whispered words: _“_ _I'm sorry...”_ _”_

They continued to climb in silence. The only sound to be heard was the gentle, even thud of Raistlin's staff on the stone steps and, in a flight of fancy, Yurielle imagined the sound was actually a heartbeat echoing her own.

 

***

 

Finally the two of them came to the landing from where the doors to both of their quarters sat opposite of one another along the wall. Yurielle had been sleeping in Raistlin's chamber for well over a week now ever since Takhisis had touched her, since they had...

She felt herself blush as the memories of the first night they had shared ran through her mind again, banishing all other thoughts and worries that had been plaguing her during their long, silent climb.

Yurielle was suddenly again aware of just how she deeply ached for Raistlin. He hadn't touched her in any intimate way since the goddess had bruised her body and Yurielle knew that he feared hurting her. Even though part of her appreciated his concern and understood it, she couldn't bear the thought of another day without his warm caress. Her heart beat faster as she recalled his hands on her skin, his lips, his hard golden...

“Yurielle?” His voice pulled her out of her daydream and she suddenly realized that she had paused in the middle of the landing. Raistlin had already opened the door to his study and was standing within the entrance, his body turned to her, his eyes watching her.

She shook her head to clear it. “Sorry, my thoughts were elsewhere.” She tore her eyes off her closed door and went to follow him.

Raistlin did not move out of her way when she approached his doorway. A strange look was on his face. His eyes left her to regard her door as well. “Do you... do you wish to sleep in your own bed tonight?” he asked quietly, his voice softer than normal.

Yurielle's eyes widened at his question. “What?” she breathed. Then it hit her, and all the air left her lungs: the archmage was asking if she didn't want to sleep with him anymore.

Did he really think her absentminded gaze meant she had thoughts of abandoning him?!

“Why would you say that, Raistlin?” she asked when she found her voice again. She took a step closer to his side and peered up into his face that lay, as usual, hidden deep in the shadows of his hood.

Raistlin took a long, slow breath. “We learned a lot today. Much of it... is strange and will take time for the both of us to sort through. If you feel as if this – if we are – going to fast, then please, I do not want you to feel obligated to sleep with me anymore. I had you stay with me while you were-” Yurielle's finger over his golden lips silenced him.

“Raistlin Majere,” she scolded him lovingly. “I've waited weeks for you to get it through your thick skull that I want you. That I _love_ you. You should know by now that nothing will chase me away. Not ghouls in your woods or twisted things in your basement.” She smiled at him. “Not even finding out that you come from the soul of the most evil man to ever walk Krynn will put a mark on how I feel about you - about us.”

She took his hand in hers and pulled him through the doorway into his study. “I only want to be near you,” she said as she led him across the room to pause by his desk. “So unless _you_ are the one who is wanting some space or are growing sick of _my_ company, then...” she turned back to him, “then I will stay in my room again if that is what you wish.”

Slowly he raised his hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “Much to my astonishment, Yurielle, I have yet to get sick of you.” He offered her a small kiss on her forehead as apology. “I do not question your love; I merely do not want you to feel as though I'm dictating your life.”

She arched an eyebrow at him and slowly shook her head. “Are you always going to do this?”

“Do what?” He looked genuinely confused.

“You’re still acting like you don't deserve me, Raistlin! You say you do not question my love, but you still seem to think that you are forcing me to do things against my will! I've always had a choice in this and I choose _you,_ no matter what that entails!” she exclaimed, watching his face as she spoke and knew that she was hitting somewhere near the mark. “You still insist on trying to find some way to make yourself out to be the bad guy. Please stop it, Raistlin. It's getting tiresome!”

He scowled at her. “That's not what I mean.”

“Isn't it?”

“No,” he said firmly. His face softened and he sighed, a hint of his mounting frustrations seeping into the sound. “The gods know that there is nothing I could ever force on you, my willful, fiery Yurielle.”

“Then what, Raistlin? Are you telling yourself that I'm some kind of victim? That I've fallen under your evil spell? Or is that what you think others will assume when they learn we are lovers! Or,” she eyed him, “are you still thinking that I’m here on some agenda? You know that I was tasked by the gods to assist you but neither one of us, not even the gods themselves, could have ever predicted what would grow between us!” She studied his face, trying to see if this was the truth of it but those hourglass eyes were still mirrors that she could not see behind.

“I know that,” he said and looked away from her. “I’m trying, Yurielle…”

“Would it be easier for you if I acted like this?” She took a step back and moved as if she would swoon. “Oh WOE is me!” she cried dramatically, putting the back of her hand to her forehead like some maid in distress being poorly portrayed by a second rate street performer. “Whatever shall I DO!? I'm trapped in this - oh so dark tower - all by my lonesome against my will! GASP! I guess all I can do is offer my body to the evil wizard within it in hopes that he will one day set me free!”

Raistlin's scowl returned and deepened. Anger welled inside of him and he began to turn away from her, but her hand caught the fabric of his sleeve.

“I'm here, Raistlin Majere, with _you_. Because I love you! Even if I didn’t love you, you are worth saving. That’s who I am, Raistlin, a light to those in the dark. Remember?” she asked softly and turned him back to face her. Reaching up she gathered the sides of his face in her palms and forced him to look into her eyes. “But I _do_ love you. Darkness, evil, splintered soul, scowling grump and all! Every part of you I treasure...” She smiled at him in that way that endeared her so much to him.

“So this is the only place that I want to be. Especially after our visit to the Library. Because I can see that you are greatly disturbed by what we learned and I really don't want you to be alone right now,” she said as her hands trailed down his neck to run along his chest.

The archmage's face softened and he nodded. “Very well. It's just...” He paused; a crease marred the skin between his eyebrows. “The look on your face when you saw your door, you looked as though...” He shook his head, unable to find the right words.

“Looked as though...?” she asked gently, urging him to try.

He met her eyes as he gathered his thoughts. “It looked as though you wanted something so badly that it was nearly bringing you to tears. I just thought-”

Again she silenced him with a slender finger over his lips. “You are reading too much into things. Do you want to know what I was really thinking of out there on the landing?” Her smile turned mischievous.

Raistlin sighed and, despite himself, relaxed as her hands continued to caress along his torso. “What were you thinking?” he asked softly as she undid the first clasp of his robe.

“I'd prefer to show you,” she arched up and nipped gently at his lip.

A small groan sounded from him. “Yurielle, you are not fully recovered. We should wait...”

“I feel fine, Raistlin!” she purred as she kissed down his neck. “Besides, you need to think about something else besides crystallized souls and archliches for a while...”

“Yurielle...” he tried to argue, knowing that she still had bruises on her body. They had faded to a light mixture of red and green outlined in yellow, proving they were healing well, but he still feared that one wrong touch would bring her pain.

His internal struggle was interrupted by the sound of heavy cloth falling to the floor.

Raistlin's eyes widened; that had not been his robes falling away! Taking a step back he sucked in a breath: Yurielle stood before him without a stitch of clothing on her. The only thing on her body were her dark doeskin boots that came above her knees.

“I guess you're right,” she shrugged playfully; the act caused her breasts to move in sensual ways. “I must not be recovered enough to even dress myself properly!”

“You... you... _minx_!” Raistlin sputtered. Completely scandalized, he felt a blush flame across his skin. “You mean to tell me that you sauntered around the Great Library in only your robe and boots?!”

“Oops?” Yurielle couldn't help her own blush as his eyes ran over her body. Coyly she chewed on her lower lip, the act causing his eyes to snap to them. “What are you going to do about it now, archmage?” she asked. Her voice was a bit shaky but she hoped her boldness covered for her inexperience in enticement.

Yurielle wasn't sure how to go about seducing anyone, but she knew that if she didn't get to experience Raistlin again soon, she was going to lose her mind! It hadn't worked in the Library but damn it all she was going to try again now that they were home!

Besides, after what they had learned, they both needed a distraction. Her grin deepened with that thought while her straight-forward approach snared the archmage.

“We sat in Astinus' chambers!” he exclaimed, the usual golden sheen to his skin was now more of a rose gold color from the intensity of his blush.

“How often do you prance around naked under your robe like that!?” he continued, rattled to his core as he knew that recently she hadn't been wearing her small clothes when the bruises were at their worst. But he had seen her put them on for a few days now, and seeing her like this, knowing that she had walked around the Great Library almost completely naked, flustered him so much so that he honestly didn't know what to do with himself.

But, he had to admit, it was also quite the turn on.

Yurielle grinned playfully at Raistlin and couldn't stop the giggle from escaping her lips at the sight of his face holding an expression somewhere between shock and desire. “Didn't I tell you that the only way to find out was to rip my clothes off, archmage?!” She watched as his strange pupils dilated in hunger when those words brought back the memory of when he had done just that, right here in this room, right there on his rug.

The look she saw overcome the archmage fanned Yurielle's own desires hotter inside of her. She could tell that he was trying to resist and was failing miserably. Yurielle knew that he was still worried about her bruises. Even though they had faded considerably, a few still hurt if pressed on too hard. However, it would be a small price to pay. She continued to chew her lip in building anticipation, waiting for him to do _something_.

Slowly she reached out a hand and ran it over the smooth surface of the great wooden desk beside her. “What's this? Another desk?” she asked in the sultriest voice she could muster.

By turning her back to him she awarded him with a view of her firm naked bottom and long spine while she shoved a stack of books on its surface to the side, making more room on the desk before facing him again.

Her invitation worked. In the next heartbeat, Raistlin had closed the space between them and had his body pressed hard against hers, pinning her against the desk.

“Swear to me you'll say something if I hurt you,” he commanded, his voice rough, his eyes trapped hers in their hungry gaze.

Yurielle's body was already trembling in anticipation. “Yes,” she breathed as her fingers curled around the front of his robe, pulling him closer against her. “I will.”

The archmage's lips locked with hers. The agony of the past few days ignited within him, flaring hotter than he had anticipated. “I've missed touching you,” he breathed against her neck as he carefully trailed his fingers along the sides of her body.

“Not as much as I've missed it,” she said and gasped as he pushed her back to sit on the desk, his kisses growing in intensity as he tasted her skin.

“Yes, Raistlin,” Yurielle moaned. “Touch me!” She encouraged as his hand trailed down her stomach to stop between her legs.

Raistlin groaned as he obeyed her command, his fingers easily finding her. “You're so wet already!” he exclaimed as his fingers slid against already very damp and swollen folds.

“This is what you do to me!” she panted as that glorious mouth of his set the skin on her neck on fire and made her body go weak. Quickly hooking her leg around his thighs and arching her back, she let him go deeper inside and couldn't stop the excited sounds of pleasure that tore from her healing throat.

Gods, it felt even better than she remembered! His long fingers moved inside of her, deliciously filling her and making her mind go fuzzy with sensation.

Yurielle wasn't sure when it happened, but she suddenly realized that Raistlin had pushed her down onto the surface of the desk. The polished sheen of it was cold on her skin and made her gasp as her body connected with it.

Through heavily lidded eyes she watched him rid himself of his own clothes. Yurielle couldn't help but grin as Raistlin flung his robe away and hastily removed his shirt, messing up his hair in the process. His golden chest gleamed in the low light of the fire as he sank to his knees in front of the desk. In the few seconds that it had taken him to do that, Yurielle's own hand had already found its way between her legs, building her anticipation as she waited for him to return.

“So eager,” he commented huskily as he pushed her hand away and pulled her legs up onto his shoulders. Without another word, his mouth was on her, devouring her need and licking away at the sweet center of her.

“GODS!” Yurielle's voice filled the room as his tongue danced along her sex. When he again sucked on that bundle of skin and nerves at the apex of her folds, she nearly forgot how to breathe. So hot and wound up was she before they had even started that already the archmage could feel her body tighten, readying for release.

Suddenly his mouth was gone.

“Raistlin!” Yurielle cried angrily as her eyes flew open only to find that he was standing over her. Caught up in the sensations he was giving her and being so close to exploding, Yurielle hadn't notice that he had stood up. Now he loomed over her, his pants pushed down low around his thighs, her legs still on his shoulders as he pulled her hips over the edge of the desk towards him; being careful of the fading bruise on her side and hip.

The hungry gleam in his eye was the only warning she got before he was suddenly filling her. With one deep thrust Raistlin was finally inside of her and the world around the two of them sparked with pleasure. Fully sheathed, he was forced to pause in order to orientate himself to the tight feeling of her as well as making sure that Yurielle was unharmed by his over exuberant thrust.

Cracking his eyes open, he saw that Yurielle was arched off the desk, her mouth open, a look of shock and ecstasy on her flushed face. Raistlin shifted slightly against her, causing her eyes to roll back in her head and an eager moan to escape her lips. Raistlin meant to ask if she was alright, but it only came out as a groan of his own in response to the sounds she made because of him.

“Yes, Raistlin!” she breathed after a moment and sensing why he was pausing. “I'm okay... GO!”

He didn't need to be told twice.

One hand gripped her uninjured hip while the other worked that same bundle of nerves that his mouth enjoyed caressing. Once ready, he began to move inside of her, carefully setting a pace. He wanted to draw this out and enjoy the sight of her beneath him again for as long as possible.

Gods, on his _desk_ of all places!

“Faster, Raistlin!” she cried her desire and she moved her legs to hook around his abdomen. He adjusted his arms to allow this, and then he was trapped in the embrace of her long legs. The soft leather of her boots was smooth against his skin as he moved inside of her, the sensation adding to the plethora of others that he was experiencing. “Faster!” she commanded loudly.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her demands. “So... bossy!” he grunted and gave one hard thrust among the slower ones. A sound he had never heard her make escaped her. He froze, worried he had indeed hurt her this time.

“Do that again!!” Yurielle could barely breathe the words. “Gods, again, Raistlin!” Her hands were now grasping the edge of the desk under her rear, holding herself in place so that she wouldn’t slide along the polished surface as he thrust.

Raistlin obeyed, repeating the action, harder this time and causing her to cry out even louder.

The archmage tried to set a rhythm but quickly his tempo increased, now entirely out of his control as her moans and cries of want grew and filled his veins with fire. Even if he had wanted to, Raistlin couldn't slow now. Every thrust was hard and deep and it didn't take long for Yurielle to give a strangled cry as she climaxed hard around him. He went rigid as his own release washed over him, filling her as an immense groan issued from deep within his throat.

Weary and panting, Raistlin released his grip on her hip. Suddenly he realized how wobbly and uncooperative his own legs were and he all but fell backward to the floor. His breath came out in wheezes as he slowly got around to the task of removing his boots so that he could take his trousers off the rest of the way. When done, he tossed them somewhere off to the side. They could have landed in the fire for all he knew. He didn't care.

“Raistlin?” He heard Yurielle ask in concern when she had recovered enough and managed to roll and turn herself along the desk to see what had happened to him.

Looking above him, Raistlin saw Yurielle peering down at him. “Are you alright?” she asked, seeing him collapsed on the floor.

“I just... need to rest,” he rasped as he lay on the floor. The gold of his skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat, his muscles were still trembling with the effort of what he had just done. Even though his head was swimming with the aftermath of pleasure and exertion Raistlin couldn't stop a grin from spreading across his face.

The concern on Yurielle's face vanished at the pleased look in his eyes. She giggled and also let herself relax. Dropping her hand down off the desk, she lightly ran her fingers over his bent knee. “We need to work on your stamina, archmage,” she teased lovingly. “I really don't want you passing out on me! That would be... unfortunate!”

Raistlin chuckled but couldn't deny that she made a fair point. “I've never been one for strenuous activities,” his voice caught. He coughed lightly for a moment, trying to calm his airways. “Apparently sex is no different,” he commented once he could breathe again.

Yurielle laughed and rolled off the desk to stand over him.

Raistlin very much enjoyed the view of her body from this angle. “I like these on you,” he stated as he ran a hand up her calves, feeling the soft suede of the leather boots with his long, slender fingers.

“I was hoping that you would,” she said as she sat on top of him, resting her body on his upper thighs but keeping her weight off of him with her legs. He happily let her sit there against him as he sat up to greet her with a kiss.

Cupping the sides of his face, Yurielle kissed him gently in return. “I love you,” she whispered against his mouth. Her voice was scratchy again after her screaming.

“I love you too,” he said back to her sincerely. “Are you alright? I didn't hurt you did I?”

Yurielle gazed into his concerned eyes, truly touched that he was still so worried about her welfare. “I'm fine, Raistlin. Better than fine actually,” she said as a smile spread across her lips. “That was amazing! Gods, I missed the feel of you!” Her bright eyes searched his face. “How do you feel?”

Raistlin drew her to him and kissed her once more. “That was a good distraction, Yurielle,” he murmured between kisses. “Better than good.”

When they drew away from one another, they were both flushed and gasping for breath again. “Breathe, Raistlin!” Yurielle chuckled as she ran her fingers through his hair and pressed his forehead to hers.

Obeying her, the archmage endeavored to calm his lung by filling them with the scent that surrounded them. It was a wondrous combination of her, of magic, and sex. While he breathed, he took note of the position their bodies were in. Lightly running a hand over her breasts his mind went back to the other night. “I saw your drawings,” he said softly. “I very much want to try this.” Moving his hips slightly, he conveyed his point as his sex rubbed teasingly against hers.

Yurielle gasped at the contact that sent sparks through her body. “All in good time,” she grinned at him. “But you need some rest and perhaps something to eat? We haven't eaten much today...”

“Maybe I just want to touch you for a while.” His eyes glinted at her with promises of more play.

She felt her skin flush as his hands continued their feather light caress. “I've fantasized so long about your lips, Raistlin,” she sighed happily as he cupped her breasts while still being careful of her bruises. “But I'm afraid that I didn't even think about what your hands could do. Your hands are magic!” she gasped as he lightly ran his nails along her soft skin, sending shivers through her body.

“You... You've fantasized about me?” He paused and looked at her, bewildered.

“Of course, Raistlin! I said that I've wanted you for a long, long time.”

“How long?” He had to ask. Raistlin watched as the skin up her chest and neck continued to flush darkly. “Yurielle?” He arched an eyebrow, amused and even more curious now that he had provoked such an interesting reaction.

“I nearly pleasured myself that first night when you brought me here, Raistlin...” she confessed sheepishly.

He froze, shocked her confession. “You _are_ a little minx! How dare you sully my rooms with your dirty fantasizing!” he scolded with a chuckle.

She laughed as well and eyed him slyly. “I didn't _actually_ do it that night, but I almost did. That's how powerful your ward was to me. That’s what you made me feel; what you still make me feel...”

Raistlin shook his head at the very thought. Then he paused and gave her a suspicious look. “I'm guessing that the room you have been occupying has since been sullied?”

Her heated skin gave her away but she didn't back down. “Often and thoroughly!” she exclaimed and grinned as he laughed. “And what of you, Raistlin Majere....?” Yurielle asked as she draped her hands around his shoulders. “Does the Master of the Past and the Present indulge in such carnal activities when he's by himself?”

Now it was his turn to flush and Yurielle did not miss the darkening of the metallic tint of his skin. Her eyes widened then narrowed mischievously again. “Now that I know I’m not a rotting corpse to you, I find that I'm curious...” She gently pushed his hair away from his face and tucked the strands behind his ears. “Tell me then, what does Raistlin Majere fantasize about?” she asked and playfully ran her fingertips over his chest, drawing small shapes and pictures along his skin.

His eyes blazed as he once again recalled the memory that was so often the focus of his secret thoughts. “You silhouetted against the firelight like that night inside of your inn, when you left your blanket behind to relight the fire. I saw every curve of you, Yurielle!” His hands ran gently along her sides to emphasize his words. “Gods, that scene has been etched behind my eyelids, _tormenting_ me for months!”

“But you eventually gave in?” she asked with a smirk.

“How could I not?” he shot back, still blushing. “I thought myself stronger than a quick need for physical release. But when it got to the point where I couldn't think without that image invading my mind... I had no choice! It was that, or go _insane_.”

Yurielle giggled. “It wasn't so bad, was it? Me, invading your mind at every opportunity...?”

He snorted. “It was growing... inconvenient to say the least.”

“When was the first time you gave in?”

Yurielle watched as the metallic sheen of his skin darkened even more and she thought that that he wasn't going to answer. Finally though, after a few moments of him studying her face, he continued, “That night after the Conclave attacked us.”

Her eyes widened. “I do hope it wasn't while I was asleep in the room with you!” she exclaimed, only partly being serious.

Raistlin made a disgusted sound. “What do you take me for? Some uncouth deviant? I'll have you know that I awoke from yet another tantalizing dream with you in it only to find that you were pressing your body up against mine in your sleep! I'm only flesh and blood, as you've insisted on repeatedly reminding me.”

Yurielle couldn't stop the bark of laughter that issued from her. “Sorry,” she grinned. “As you've since found out, I enjoy snuggling.”

He rolled his eyes but also smirked. “Yes I know. You do have a habit of wrapping yourself around me in your sleep.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? You're warm!”

He leaned forward and kissed her again. “And you're beautiful,” he murmured against her lips. After a long, soft kiss, they broke apart again. Raistlin studied her face for a few moments before speaking again. “I haven't indulged in any form of pleasure since before my Test changed me. Even before then I did so very, very rarely. You may be spared from my curse, Yurielle, but my own body is not. Since my Test happened, I don't find much satisfaction while watching my own body rot away.... But, with you behind my eyelids,” a sly smile spread across his face, “I've been able to adapt.”

“Why so rarely? I understand after your curse,” Yurielle said, her eyes softening. “But before it? You were what... twenty when you took your Test? Surely as a younger man you had... urges?”

Raistlin sighed and sat up straighter.

Yurielle shifted so that she sat on the floor between his legs and brought her own around to rest on either side of his hips. Raistlin watched her legs move and almost forgot that he had been asked a question, so transfixed were his eyes on that delicious area between her legs.

“Raistlin,” Yurielle chided him gently, drawing his eyes back to hers with a finger on his chin. “You and your staring!”

“You're going to need to accept that I enjoy looking at you,” he stated evenly. “You're the only person that I can see...”

A lump filled Yurielle's throat. He hadn't meant to make her feel guilty she knew, but she still did. “I know, Raistlin, I'm just teasing. Stare all you like, I'll do my best to-” He silenced her now with a golden finger over her lips.

“I have been trying. But the naked female form is still so new to me. You have an exquisite body, Yurielle,” he said honestly. “I am honored that you share it with me. But if it truly makes you uncomfortable, I will try my best to not do it.”

“No, Raistlin,” she soothed, touched by his words, “stare. I'm just not used to anyone noticing me... or appreciating me.” She kissed his forehead then. “Now, answer my question!”

He huffed, wishing she hadn't brought it back up.

“Perfect memory,” Yurielle winked, rightly guessing his thoughts. “Remember?”

Raistlin sighed heavily and rested his hands lightly on her thighs. “You need to understand,” he said quietly, obviously struggling with the words, “that I've always been weak and... sickly. No woman ever looked at me with anything but revulsion or pity.”

“I thought you said there was one...” she reminded him gently.

“Yes, there was her. But as I said, she had a reputation for seeking pleasures. I'm sure she was just eyeing me to see if I would be an entertaining enough encounter or not,” he said bitterly. “Or figured to use me to get to my twin. Caramon was apparently enough to sate her so that she forgot about me entirely afterward. Not that I wanted her after that...”

“Again with your brother,” she whispered, still leery of broaching the subject. “Raistlin, you are not him!” She cut him off when he was going to say something resentful, for she could see the hard glint in his eyes. “I can see your internal struggle, Raistlin, and I am trying to understand why you are like this. But, I'm beginning to recognize that living in the shadow of your twin has damaged you more than I think you realize. You cannot compare yourself to other men! It's not healthy...”

“I know,” he agreed with a sigh and looked away from her into the fire. “I've hated myself - my body - for _so_ long... Pleasuring myself only left me feeling hollow and shameful because somewhere in my mind I had simply accepted that no one would ever want me.” His voice was barely louder than a whisper now as he spoke.

“Why even grant myself any outlet for my desires? It was futile. So I just didn't do it. Instead I used that energy to focus on my studies. The magic was my lover and my companion, the magic loved me back and held me. The magic was all that I ever wanted.”

Raistlin took another deep breath, his eyes still on the fire but he leaned forward and Yurielle accepted him in a warm embrace, sensing instinctively that he needed reassurance. “After my Test,” he said quietly, pulling her body tightly against his and burying his face in her hair, “when my health was further shattered and my body rotted in my sight, you can about imagine what any sort of attempts at pleasure did to me. Plus watching my brother continue his endless pursuits of carnal needs, leaving me alone while he sated his lusts, only served to disgust me further regarding pleasures the flesh.”

“I'm sorry,” Yurielle said softly as she ran her hand down his spine, noting how nearly every ridge could be seen and felt through his metallic skin. She understood it now, how he viewed this thin body of his, curse and all. Yurielle knew that this had been going on for so long that, as a result, Raistlin had no idea just how perfect he was.

But, _gods,_ how she loved his body!

“Don't be sorry,” he shook his head. “You were not there, and it was my own fault for letting myself fall into such anger and hatred,” Raistlin said as the realization dawned on him. He truly had no one to blame but himself for how he handled what his brother did and how he had lashed out against everything that he felt was beneath him; love and affection included.

“I wish I had been though,” she said wistfully. “It hurts me knowing how lonely you were. How no one else saw past your cynical mask to just see the real you. How you were hurting and how your bitterness was only to protect yourself...”

Raistlin drew away from her and gazed at her face. “You truly do see me, Yurielle. So much so that it frightens me. But,” he slowly grazed his lips along her forehead, similar to how he had warded her, “I am grateful for you, my Star. You light my way, you bring me hope,” he murmured against her skin. “I want to be better for you.”

Yurielle leaned into the kiss, a low moan issuing itself from her throat at the reenactment of that night when his lips had first touched her; at the memory of the feel of his magic coursing through her body. The heat of that memory pooled hotly between her thighs. “Raistlin...”

He drew away, very much aware of how he was affecting her and, to his delight, he felt his nether region readying for more. “Though I may dislike my own body,” he said, his hands cupping her buttocks, pulling her tightly to himself. “I cannot see what you see, except through your drawings. I am trying to be more... accepting of myself. Thank you for them, Yurielle. They mean more to me than you know.”

Her wide eyes met his then, she didn't quite understand.

“Through them I see how you view me,” he said softly, kissing her mouth tenderly. “They let me see that, perhaps, I'm not so horrible.”

“You're beautiful!” she all but cried as his hardening length slid through her quivering lips when he again drew her against himself, using his grip on her rear to grind against her.

With a needy moan against his mouth, Yurielle shifted her legs so that they were back under her. “Lay back, Raistlin,” she commanded. “Let me do all the work this time!”

He fell back too eagerly and landed hard against the floor with a loud _OOF_ as he knocked the air from his lungs.

Yurielle gave a small laugh at his enthusiasm. “And here you scold me for being so eager!”

The archmage only grinned sheepishly up at her, his manhood twitching in the air between them and growing harder as she watched it hungrily, trying to decide how best to ready him.

Raistlin's eyes widened and he watched, transfixed, as Yurielle slithered down his body, her own moving sensually as if she were dancing. Her hair and fingers trailed along his skin as she moved, the sensation both tickling and electrifying. With a gasp his whole body jerked when she gently wrapped those fingers around his member.

She paused and he froze in anticipation of what she would do next. His heart was hammering in his chest as those wheels in her head turned while she considered how to best please him. “Gods, Yuri!” He couldn't stop the sound he made when she suddenly ran her tongue along him, wetting both his length and her fingers.

Raistlin didn't have a vast array of knowledge on how to please himself. The number of times he had done so in his life was so few that he could probably count the occurrences on one hand. The act had always been over quickly and efficiently, letting his body have release so that his mind could again focus on other things. Touching himself had never been for pleasure, so when Yurielle's hand on him touched places he hadn't known could feel so wonderful, Raistlin Majere suddenly found himself caught up in a storm of sensations.

The archmage couldn't speak, couldn't think as his eyes rolled back in his head, could barely even breathe as Yurielle's hands slid along him.

In turn Yurielle watched her glorious, beautiful mage utterly fall under her own kind of spell. Her eager mind quickly learning his cues of what made him respond best and of what he found most pleasurable.

What she didn't know was that, for him, everything she did was divine. There simply was no other word for the experience as her hands stroked him, quickly bringing him so close that he almost told her to stop. Almost. It felt so good to be touched by her! If she finished him this way, Raistlin knew that he would not complain.

Yurielle sensed his nearness and reveled in the disappointed sound he made when she suddenly took her hands off of him, leaving him teetering on the edge. “See? Frustrating isn't it, archmage!?” she exclaimed, meeting his wide eyed, bewildered stare. “I think that it's only fair I get to torment you a little as well!”

“Torment away, you evil minx!” he all but growled lowly in his throat, his eyes glinted at her now in understanding at what she was doing. “Just trust that more will come your way!”

“I'd expect nothing else,” she grinned and rose herself up over him, her long legs trapping him beneath her. Again the archmage could only watch, thankful that he could witness the sight of her above him. His hands shook as they ran along her thighs to rest on her hips but he snatched them away quickly when he remembered her bruise and moved them to grip uselessly at the floor beneath them.

With love for him in her eyes Yurielle grabbed his hands and replaced them where he first had them. With a reassuring smile she lined herself up to him and held his gaze as she slowly lowered herself down, filling her passage completely with him. She gasped at the feel and, like Raistlin before, she had to pause to grow used to the deep intimate connection. For a moment she wasn’t sure where she ended and the archmage began as all thoughts quickly vanished and sensations began to overwhelmed them as she began to find her rhythm.

Raistlin was enthralled by the sight of her body, flushed with excitement, bouncing on top of him, claiming him this time. It was far better than any drawing she could have made. The feel of her tightness around him, the sounds coming out of her, the acceptance and love he saw in her eyes, all to soon became too much for him. With a cry, he arched and released into her.

Stars exploded behind Yurielle's eyes as she felt him pulse inside her, warmth flooding her and she answered his climax with her own. Letting the tight band of pleasure within her snap loose, Yurielle threw her head back in ecstasy but no sound issued from her open mouth as she went rigid while they rode out their orgasms together.

Pulled under by a wave of pleasure and fulfillment, Yurielle soon slumped forward onto the archmage who caught her just as she had done with him the first time they had made love.

“Glorious,” he whispered as he stroked her hair with his hand.

Yurielle smiled from where he held her against him. She kissed his lips lovingly and offered a sigh of complete contentment in response. Her stomach apparently also wanted to add its opinion and gave a loud rumble.

Raistlin gave a small bark of laughter and shook his head. “You and that stomach of yours! If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was bossier than you are.”

Yurielle grinned in response. “I have no control over it, I swear!”

“We'd better feed it,” he said after a moment and hearing it give another small gurgle. “I fear what you may turn into if it we ignore it.”

With a pout Yurielle rolled off the archmage. Helping him to his feet they rose together and inspected the aftermath of their encounter. Papers and books had been pushed off of his desk and lay scattered on the floor around them. An inkwell had tipped over, its contents dripping slowly over the side of the desk and onto the floor. The expanding pool of ink was dangerously close to where they had been. Lastly they found Raistlin’s best quill snapped in two within the tangle of cloth and papers on the floor.

Raistlin eyed the mess and found that he did not care. With a smirk he used a cantrip to make all traces of their tryst disappear from the smooth surface of the wood as well as from their bodies.

“Are you coming?” Yurielle asked as he finally found his pants, hanging precariously off the mantel above hearth. Pulling them back on, he turned to her while he laced them and froze.

She stood in the doorway, still wearing nothing but her boots.

Giving him a playful wink, Yurielle whirled away, leaving Raistlin to stand and stare after her. He could only shake his head even as he felt a blush creep up his skin. Picking up her discarded robe as well as his own, the archmage made his way to the kitchen.

Reaching the landing he looked down the spiral and saw her glance up at him as she all but danced down the steps, her movements were lithe and graceful. How she didn't fall and break her neck was beyond him. But, he had to admit, the sight of her playfulness was the strongest aphrodisiac he had ever seen.

Idly he wondered if they would actually get around to eating any real food that day as he stalked after her. Her loving laughter rose up as if to answer his thoughts. The sound of it echoed through the Tower all the while filling his veins with a hunger that had nothing to do with food.

What in the world had he found under the Great Library in Palanthas?

Raistlin Majere was pretty sure that, no matter how long he might live, he'd never really be able to answer that question.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone reading. You are all seriously awesome. Your comments always pick me up and make my day :)


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